Twelve Days
by WriterandDaydreamer4218
Summary: Pietro was like a star: always burning brightly-until the day he went out. And then he came back-but now things aren't as they should be. For twelve days Pietro was literally dead, which isn't an easy thing to move on from-especially for his sister, Wanda, who secretly fears he might leave at any time. To fully reconcile, they'll both have to face the demons they keep locked away.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my first Avengers fanfiction!**

 **I've seen Age of Ultron twice now and the ending completely destroyed me both times. I've been working on this idea for a while, pretty much ever since I saw the movie. A very important note: this is going to be a story with a happy ending. It's going to get really feelsy, but it'll get better. I promise.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or the Avengers.**

 **Enjoy!**

Years ago, Wanda had seen a star dying.

She'd been very young, only three or four. That was one of the only memories she had of the stable times, before the Sokovian government had collapsed. Her father had a friend was an astronomer. He worked at an astrology center that was filled with telescopes. Now, that building was just a bombed out wreck-all the telescopes had been pilfered for the necessary ingredients to make bombs and bullets. And yet she still remembered how those telescopes could see light years into space in any and every direction. She had-and still did, if she was being honest-found it amazing.

Pietro had run back and forth from telescope to telescope, fiddling with a knob here or a dial there as he tried to get the best view of the night sky. Wanda had stayed by his side, as ever. Even back then, they knew their job had been to look out for each other-and for Wanda that usually entailed making sure that Pietro didn't do something especially stupid.

Suddenly their father had scooped them up, one in each arm, as they giggled and squirmed futilely. "My little troublemakers." he said, planting a soft kiss on each of their brows, "Would you like to see a real star?"

He carried them over to a spot across the observation deck where his friend, Morris, was fiddling with a long telescope that extended far off the side of the railed in balcony. Wanda watched the city below them go by with interest. Cars whizzed past on roads that looked like slightly smudged pencil lines and buildings sparkled like Christmas trees.

Morris held her up to the telescope's level, pressing her eye to the eyepiece. "Do you see that, Wanda? That's a star."

It was massive. Wanda had to shield her eyes against its brilliant glare as it pulsed and contracted, giving off light and flame. "Why's it doing that?" she asked curiously. "Why's it beating?"

"Because that star is dying." her father said, holding Pietro out of grabbing distance of the telescope. "Hold on, Pietro! You'll get a turn too, but just wait a few minutes!"

"Technically, it's already dead." Morris said knowledgeably. "How far away do you think that star is?"

"I don't know. As far as 'Merica?" Wanda guessed.

Both men laughed. "No, it's a little farther than America. You can travel for years and years-for your entire life-and never even get close to this star. It takes a long time for the light to reach us so we can see this star-like how it takes a long time for you to receive a letter in the mail. This star is so far away that the light is already far behind it. In fact, it's so far behind that the star has already gone supernova. It has gotten so bright that it has burnt itself out, obliterating everything in its wake."

Wanda watched the star for a few more minutes. It didn't look like it was dead to her. "When will it go supernova?" She pronounced the unfamiliar word carefully, taking care to pronounce everything clearly.

"Not for years and years-but it will sure be a sight to see when it does. Now, why don't we give your brother a turn?"

Reluctantly she let herself be set down safely on the ground again. Immediately, she walked over the edge of the building so she could go back to watching the city.

Her father glanced at her warningly, but he still had his hands full with Pietro-who was a burning ball of energy in his own right. "Remember what I told you, Wanda?"

"Of course, Papa. No flying." Pietro had wanted to jump off the balcony to see if he could fly, but their father hadn't let him.

Now, while Morris was busy with her brother, he took a seat next to her and ruffled her black hair. Wand moved closer to him, relishing in the attention. She loved her brother dearly, of course, but it was nice to have father to herself every once in a while. "You are my little stars." he said. "You and Pietro. You burn so brightly. You shine with a light, an energy, that is all your own."

It was easy to think they were stars when there were high up above the city like that, or when they were outperforming and outshining the rest of the HYDRA volunteers.

And then one day, during the battle of Sokovia, Wanda realized that her father had been wrong that night. He'd forgotten something very important about stars.

At some point, after years and years of shining light, all stars went out.

Nothing lasted forever.

For as long as Wanda could remember, she and Pietro had had an unspoken connection. They communicated through looks, gestures, and feelings-not just words. Whenever Pietro slipped and fell while treading on a patch of ice on the daily walk to school, Wanda felt the pain in her legs. Whenever she got her hair pulled on the playground, Pietro reported bad headaches. She'd felt his pain over the years, just as he did-all those scraped knees, torn limbs, and twisted ankles from afternoons spent playing games in the streets.

And yet nothing she'd ever felt had prepared her for _this._

It was pain in the purest sense of the word-pure, unadulterated agony-first in her back, then her arms, then in the backs of her legs, spreading like a wildfire.

She realized this wasn't her pain. She wasn't physically hurt. Which meant-

Pietro.

Where his presence usually was, calm and reassuring, now there was nothing-just that fierce but dull fire throbbing in her gut like a chained beast. That was why she fell to her knees and screamed like the world was ending-because in a way it was. Her brother, her other half, was being torn away from her. How could she survive something like that?

Just then, she heard Steve's voice in her earpiece. "We're ready to blow the joint, Wanda. Get out soon-before all the transports leave."

"Where's my brother?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm. "Where is Pietro?"

Steve hesitated for just a fraction of a second too long. "He took a few bullets for Clint. He…he's not doing well, but he's still alive."

She could read between the lines. _Not for much longer._

The world seemed to move in slow motion, though she fairly flew through the deserted city streets. There was no one in any of the homes, schools, or open air marketplaces that crowded the city. In fact, the vibrant city that had once been her home now felt more like a ghost town.

The transport was just about to take off. Steve flagged her down and Wanda jumped on just as the exit ramp closed with a soft clank. She leant against the side of the transport to moderate the pain. She still felt like she was in some degree of agony, but for once she felt that was a blessing. It meant that her brother was still alive.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked with concern. They were flying toward the main helicarrier; they couldn't get there fast enough for Wanda's liking.

"Pietro and I have an emotional connection. To some degree, we fell each other's pain."

"Your brother is in the hands of some of the best and most capable doctors in the world. If anyone can save him, they can."

"And what if they can't?"

"Then Pietro will have died a hero." he replied without missing a single beat. "You both fought well today. You fought like Avengers."

 _Hold on, Pietro. I'm coming._ She didn't really care about being an Avenger. She wanted her brother by her side.

Safe.

When they reached the main craft, Steve directed her to the sick bay. He promised to be there as soon as he could. Wanda practically ran to get there, passing entire families glued to the carrier's many windows as the watched their livelihoods and all their possessions get vaporized. It would take months, maybe even years, for them to rebuild their lives. And that process certainly wouldn't take place in Sokovia.

To think she'd almost fought against them.

The sick bay was crowded with people inquiring after their loved ones. Wanda looked in one glass window after another until she found the one she needed. Pietro lay in a near comatose state on a small white bed, surrounded by more doctors, machines, and needles than she could count. He looked dead.

She shoved her way to the door, where she was confronted from a very sleep (and caffeine) deprived nurse. "I have to get in there."

The nurse tried to stifle a yawn. "I'm sorry. Only doctors and other personnel are allowed inside at this time-"

"They're trying to save my brother. He is in that room. I have to be by his side." She saw her opportunity and ducked inside. Once there, she pushed past all the other doctors and nurses crowding that bed.

And then she was facing her brother and he was facing her and nothing else mattered. They were together at last-Pietro and Wanda, the way it had always been.

The way it was always meant to be.

Pietro was covered in blood soaked bandages. His eyes were glazed and glassy with pain, but when he found her hand and squeezed it he seemed entirely alert. "Sweet sister." he whispered in a thin and raspy voice.

"Don't you dare." she replied. "Don't leave me here alone, Pietro Maximoff."

He laughed quietly. "You know I don't want to. But I am beginning to wonder if I have a choice."

"Why did you have to take those bullets? Why are you always so reckless?" She wasn't being fair to him. She knew that. If things had come down to it, she would have done the same thing.

"I couldn't let his children grow up the way we did-without a father."

A single tear snaked its way down her cheek. "Pietro…"

"I'm sorry, Wanda. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to..." His eyes seemed to glaze again, probably from all the medication he was undoubtedly on.

"You're a hero. How can I possibly hold a grudge? I'm proud of you. More proud than I can say." She tried to hold in a sob. "I'm scared, Pietro. I don't want to be alone."

Tenderly, he wiped her tears away. "You won't be. You have the Avengers now. They'll look after you. And besides, I won't really leave you. He took her hand and rested it on her heart. "I will always be with you…right here…whenever you need me."

"Do you promise? No matter what?" The pain was beginning to ebb away. They didn't have much time left.

"I promise. Wanda, it hurts…" For a moment there was something almost childlike about his face and the fear in his eyes. She knew she couldn't make him stay-not forever.

"I know. You can let go now, if you need to."

"I'm scared, too. I don't know where you go after…I don't know what I'll be facing."

"You've always been so smart. So courageous. Just rest now. You've done so much. Don't worry. You'll be at peace. If there's some kind of heaven, or some other kind of paradise…you'll be admitted right away. You won't even have to wait at the door. Good bye, brother. I love you, so very much." She held one of his cold hands in both of hers, trying to transfer some of their heat into his.

He ran a hand down the side of her face, from her temple to her cheek. "I love you too, Wanda. See you…" And with that his grip slackened and his eyes unfocused. Wanda felt cold and numb. She felt as though her heart had been ripped out and crushed. A crushed heart couldn't function. She couldn't live with a crushed heart.

She heard the heart monitor begin to beep ominously. The room exploded into a hive of activity around her while she sank to the floor and lay there out of the way, prone. Everything was going too fast and yet too slowly. Things moved in fits and starts. The compressions and AEDs were administered. She could hear them…one, two. One, two. She dug her fingers into the tile floor, as if that could keep her anchored when the inevitable happened.

One, two…one, two.

He was still breathing, but he wasn't alive. The Pietro she knew and loved had already moved on.

And he would never come back.

At least he had waited for her, she had to think. At least she'd had a chance to see him again, and to say her goodbyes.

"Someone check his pulse…"

"He's flatlining…"

She wanted to pretend she was a small child again, back home in Sokovia with her parents and her brother, scared of a loud thunderstorm. She wished she could go to her bedroom and curl up under the covers of her bed where everything didn't seem quite so scary. Pietro would come with her and stay with her until the last peals of thunder and flashes of light had gone away. But already, that daydream was splintering around her and breaking into little shards. That wasn't reality now. Those memories had happened to some other girl. Not to her.

"Check it."

"Nothing."

She didn't feel much like an Avenger at the moment. She was just a young adult who had lost everything she cared about.

And then there was silence.

Total silence.

"Call it." someone said after about three minutes.

"Time of death…10:12 P.M."

 **Repeat: things will get better within the next chapter or so.**

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	2. In New York

**Thank you so, so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited this story! You really made my day, and I'm so glad you all enjoy it!**

 **Onto the next chapter:**

She didn't let them move the body.

The helicarrier did have a room solely devoted to the dead-those who had died from shrapnel wounds or had been killed before the transports arrived-but she wouldn't let them put Pietro in there, not yet. The Avengers hadn't been able to save everyone, but they'd prevented a lot of casualties. They'd basically saved the entire world-not just the little country of Sokovia. Wanda wondered what her parents would say to that, had she been able to tell them.

Of course, then she'd also have to tell them how she lost Pietro.

She stayed on the floor, back pressed against the wall, for almost an hour without moving. The doctors cleaned up-they disconnected the IV drip, wiped up all the blood that had pooled on the floor, and put away the AEDs-or given them to someone else who needed them.

Finally, one of the doctors sat down next to her so they could be on the same level. "Wanda, we have to give this room to someone who needs it." _Namely, someone who is still alive._ "We'll find you another room nearby."

"You won't take him away, will you?" Her voice felt thick and alien, even to her. It was hard to get the words out.

"Of course not. We'll bring him in directly." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and helped her stand. Wanda had to force herself to stay upright; her legs kept cramping from lack of use.

The room they showed her to was large and extremely spacious. She had a nice view out of the helicarrier as it soared across tiny cities and wide expanses of water to reach its final destination-New York City. Ultron had been vanquished-killed by Vision just before the city blew up. At least Pietro's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

He looked so calm and peaceful, almost as if he was just sleeping. If she blocked out all the dried blood, she could pretend they were in one of the numerous bombed out wrecks of houses they had taken shelter in over the years. She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes almost out of reflex. This room had an actual upholstered chair that kept her level with the bed so she could see him clearly. She could look at him and imagine that things were well again.

But things were different now. The reality was that nothing was alright, and nothing would be alright for a long, long time.

Just then, the door opened and Clint walked in, holding two cups of coffee. "Hey." he said, handing her a cup and pulling up a chair next to her.

She nodded in acknowledgement and took a sip of her coffee. It was black and bitter but she forced it down anyway. "How is everyone else?"

"They're all unscathed. Except for Bruce…he broke connection with us just after Sokovia got vaporized. No one's heard from him since. Rumor has it he's in Fiji." He glanced at Pietro and looked away just as quickly. "How are you holding up-after everything?"

Wanda looked down into the coffee's murky depths, swirling it absentmindedly with a fingertip. "How should I be feeling? He was my brother. We've done everything together for as long as I can remember. And now he's gone to a place I can't follow."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize. What he did…he did for you and your family. He never regretted his decision, even at the end…and neither do I."

Clint pulled two pictures out of his wallet-a boy and a girl. "I'll tell them all about him-how he was truly a superhero, especially when it mattered most. He won't be forgotten. I can promise you that."

"Thank you." She looked at the pictures almost curiously. If Pietro had lived, he could have grown up, gotten married, and carried pictures of his own children in his wallet. She imagined barbecues on hot summer days, watching their kids play in the park together, staying up all night on New Year's Eve. She thought she might cry, although she didn't want to cry in front of someone else. She didn't want any more pity.

"Fury says we'll be landing in New York tomorrow morning. You're welcome to come to Avengers tower with us until you get back on your feet. Heaven knows you deserve it. And…you're always welcome to meet my kids sometime. That's Cooper, and that's Lila."

Wanda looked at them again. They both seemed happy and well fed. So different from how she and Pietro had grown up.

Some things were truly worth dying for.

"Thank you." she repeated. She didn't know what else to say, not when unshed tears had almost sealed her throat shut.

"Let us know if you need anything." Clint said after a while of silence. He got up and left, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Wanda realized she'd only gotten about five hours of sleep in almost two days. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of weariness and exhaustion, worn out from both fighting and grieving.

She slept with Pietro's limp hand cradled in her own.

The farthest Wanda had ever been outside Sokovia was a small beach cottage on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea her parents had rented for a few weeks when she was eight years old. She still had fond memories of it-of spending full days on the beach building sand castles with Pietro and playing in the crystal clear water. At night she'd been covered in sunburns and she'd constantly had to smooth a layer of aloe over her skin to keep it from hurting, but by the next morning she was ready to hit the beach again.

She'd heard talk of the United States for as long as she could remember-a country with a stable government whose citizens weren't all poor and impoverished. Her parents had always talked about moving someday, but they'd died while in the process of securing Visas. Pietro and Wanda had only been ten at the time and had known next to nothing about international travel.

And yet here they were, flying over the Manhattan skyline. The helicarrier dipped on an air current, lowering one wing as if to point out the Empire State Building sticking up like a needle below them. Wanda looked out the window with interest as she tried to finger comb her hair and drank some more coffee. Clint had stopped by again earlier that morning and given her another cup. He'd also told her to prepare herself-they'd be landing in about twenty minutes. She'd managed to sleep a little since the night before, but she still felt so tired she could barely stand.

"We're here." she whispered, so only her twin would be able to hear her. "Pietro, this is America-New York City, to be more specific. Isn't it amazing?" All those millions of New Yorkers going about their day without realizing that they had almost died-that her brother, Pietro Maximoff, had given his life in the fight to save them all. The city was so big that the entire country of Sokovia could have fit inside of it twice with plenty of room to spare.

This city of movers and shakers, of noise and color, was also to be her new home.

The media hadn't left the team alone since they'd gotten off the transport with the rest of the survivors.

"Tony!" a reporter called from the other side of the street. "Tony, how does it feel to know that your team saved the world yet again?"

"Smile!" another person cried. A camera went off with a flash that was so bright Wanda felt temporarily blinded.

"Where's Bruce?" called another reporter. He held up a microphone to Natasha, who brushed it aside in irritation. "Is he still hulking out?"

"Who's the new girl?" someone else asked. "Isn't she a little young to be an Avenger?"

"Keep your head down." Steve told her as they walked by. "Once they realize you aren't….what's the expression again? Oh, right…buying what they're selling, they tend to leave you alone. We try to stay off the radar as much as we can, but with something as big as what happened in Sokovia…well, naturally people talk."

Dutifully, Wanda kept her eyes trained on the carpet of dry leaves covering the sidewalk. Tony meanwhile was the life of the party, talking with anyone and everyone who would hand him a microphone.

Natasha glanced back and looked from Steve to her and back again, as if to ask him _How's she doing?_

Steve nodded once. _Okay._

Clint turned down a narrow tree lined palisade that snaked between two buildings. The street was too narrow for them to be hounded by passerby. "Let's get shawarma." he said, pulling Tony unceremoniously away from a long and involved conversation with a reporter about the many, many, _many_ technological advancements he was planning to make in the next seven months.

"Come on!" Tony huffed. "The cameras love me."

"You don't need your face plastered on ever cable news outlet."

"You're right. Just 99% of them. And all of the premium channels as well."

They turned in at the door to a slightly run down shawarma restaurant that was deserted except for a teenage boy who was sweeping the floor and blaring heavy metal music. When he saw them come in his jaw dropped. "You're the Avengers!" he cried.

"Yes, yes. Listen, it's been a really long day and we're just looking for something to eat." Clint said wearily. "If you could just make us some shawarma, that would be great."

"Of course." He hurried into the back of the restaurant to deliver their orders.

Wanda took a seat at a table tiled in red vinyl, fiddling with a corner of the upholstery that was torn and fraying. The other Avengers' conversation flowed over her. She briefly heard them talking about how Sam, James, and Vision had already reached the tower since they weren't as concerned with hogging the press as Tony was.

Just then, she realized Natasha had asked her a question. She looked up in surprise, the vinyl coming away in her fingertips. "Pardon?" she asked.

"What are you looking to do while you're here?" Natasha repeated patiently.

"The Met." It was the only thing she could think of offhand. Really, she couldn't care less about art or museums at the moment. She could already tell that she wouldn't fit in here-yet she couldn't help feeling that Pietro would have loved New York City. It was always busy and on the move-just like him.

Until the bullets had made him stop.

She ate her shawarma listlessly. Would the little things ever stop reminding her of the brother she had lost?

The way things were going, not any time soon.

They hadn't brought the body back to the tower.

Wanda's temperature regulation was off. She felt first hot, then cold, as if her body couldn't make up its mind about what to feel. She could only look at the Avengers' director, Nick Fury, and hope she had heard him wrong. "What?"

"Careful-she can lash out just a little bit when angered." Tony added.

"I'm sorry Wanda, but you can't live with the dead forever. Sooner or later, you'll have to return to the world of the living-and wasting away by Pietro's side is not the way to go. That's not what he would have wanted for you, and I think you know it." Fury said calmly. Nothing seemed to rattle him-he'd barely even flinched when a robot had almost vaporized everyone on the planet; this wasn't anywhere near the scope of that.

"Don't presume to think you know my brother better than I do." Wanda didn't know what infuriated her more-the fact that they were taking him away without her consent or the attitude they seemed to have adopted: that they knew more about Pietro than she did, when they'd barely known him for more than twenty four hours. It didn't seem fair.

But deep down inside, Wanda wondered if the fact of the matter was simply that he was right.

Quickly, she spun on her heel and left. Rage pulsed through her and she had to keep her mind focused acutely on her hands so no unnecessary power would spill out unchecked.

"That went well." she heard Tony say as she walked down one corridor after another. She didn't care what they thought of her. She just wanted to be alone.

She retreated to the bedroom she'd been assigned and slammed the door so hard it vibrated in its frame. Then she sat down on her bed so she could face the window and the glittering night outside. It was hard for her to focus…she paced back and forth nervously, feeling tightly wound. Now she knew how Pietro had felt during those years they'd spent in HYDRA's cages. The world was too slow, too deliberate. Pietro had run his life on impulse, willpower, and sheer dumb luck.

Wanda marveled that that wasn't a bad way to live-in and out with a flash. Except of course that he'd devastated those he'd left behind.

Namely, her.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, which was still rattling from the force of her slamming it shut. "Wanda? Are you all right?" Steve asked.

She forced herself to keep her voice level. "I'm fine."

"Listen…the team is watching a movie if you want to-"

"No thank you."  
She could hear him shifting from foot to foot, probably changing tactics. It didn't matter. She couldn't be swayed. Not from this. "I'm sorry about what happened. Maybe I can talk to Fury, work something out-"

Wanda was tired of people apologizing to her for things that weren't their fault in the first place, although the thought behind the words was sincere. "No, it's fine. I suppose he has a point. I should start to move on." Already, the empty feeling in her chest was beginning to feel like second nature.

"If you insist. We'll save some popcorn for you in case you change your mind." She heard his footsteps fading away down the corridor.

Wanda stared out at the night sky and tried to remember. She feared that if she didn't, she would forget what her brother had been like-how his blond hair had curled in feather soft wisps across his forehead, how he liked to make wishes on pennies whenever they passed outdoor fountains no matter how old he was, and how his touch could caress her and calm her down when nothing else would. She didn't have a single picture of him; HYDRA had taken all their personal belongings once they'd signed up. Even now, she had to think very hard to remember her mother's beautiful voice as she sang old show tunes as she cooked dinner or how her father's forehead had crinkled when he laughed.

"You were a hero, Pietro." she whispered as she lay down in the exact center of the bed that had been provided for her. She was still dressed in her clothes from the battle. They were covered in dust, grime, and her brother's blood-but she wasn't yet ready to change into something more comfortable. At least that blood was something of Pietro's-permanent and solid. But in time even then would fade-and then she would be left with nothing.

She couldn't face the thought of losing everything of his. It would be like losing him all over again-just less permanent.

She was sure no one could hear her; if anyone walked in on her she would know before they opened that door. And so Wanda let herself cry for the first time since the heart rate monitor had flat lined, until her pillow was soaked through and she felt so numb and hollow inside she couldn't feel a single thing-even grief.

 **Hope you enjoyed! I don't have this being a very long fic-just a segue into summer-so things should start having a few less feels next chapter.**

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	3. Letting Go

**Welcome back for chapter three! Thanks to everyone for all the follows, favorites and reviews. You guys are awesome!**

 **Also, you will notice that I changed my username. It's still the same person writing this story; I've just been meaning to update my name for a while. I kept the same numbers at the end to prevent confusion.**

 **Disclaimer: see chapter 1**

 **Enjoy the next chapter!**

For the next few days, the sky opened up and poured. Wanda didn't mind; she went sightseeing in almost any weather once she'd finished her daily training. Steve insisted all the Avengers train for an hour or two every day, just for a couple of weeks, in order to hone their skills.

New York City was massive. It was even bigger than Wanda had expected it to be. It was filled with huge buildings taller than any she had ever seen in Sokovia and everyone seemed to have somewhere they needed to be. They were always hurrying from one place to the next, always with some destination in mind. They never stopped to chat, nor to meander-in fact, Wanda was almost hit by a car three times. In a way, she loved that feeling of being ignored-while she was in the city she could blend into the crowd. She could be a normal girl for a few hours. For a few short hours she had never helped to cause a war. She'd never saved the world.

Slowly, the days began to pass. Two, then three, four, and five. The other Avengers were almost all busy talking to one person or another-because apparently displacing thousands of homeless Sokovians required a bit of an explanation. However, she didn't know many people and not many people knew her, so she was able to go about her daily routine with a pleasant amount of anonymity.

Her typical day generally went like this-wake up, get coffee (Wanda was beginning to wonder how she'd ever lived without it), get dressed, go to training, take a shower, eat lunch, and hop on the computer until she found a museum or other attraction that seemed remotely interesting. She would spend the afternoon at the attraction she'd chosen to attend, be home before dark for dinner with the team, and then would either watch a movie with them or spend time in her room curled up with a book depending on everyone else's schedules.

She was surviving. However, she couldn't really say whether or not she was coping. She tried not to think about Pietro at all, dead or alive.

And yet, sometimes at night she would wake up with a fierce feeling of certainty that her brother was actually alive-that he was just on the other side of the bedroom door, waiting patiently to be let in. She would wait for him for hours sometimes, expecting at any moment to hear him say "You didn't see that coming?" And then he would tell her that the past week had been just a bad dream, and he really was still alive. He'd just pretended to be dead. It had been a practical joke a terrible one that he had taken way too far, but it was a joke all the same.

The days passed, but that door never opened-no matter how many times she willed it to.

One night, Wanda just couldn't stay asleep.

She kept waking from nightmare after nightmare, Pietro's corpse burnt into the space behind her eyelids. She awoke soaked in a cold sweat; her blankets were thrown across the bed haphazardly. The digital clock across the room blinked back at her noncommittally: 3:12 A.M.

 _Just a dream._ But it hadn't been. Not really..

She pulled a dressing gown on over her pajamas and stepped out of bed. The tile floor felt cold beneath her feet, which was a relief compared to the stifling night outside. She was shaking too hard to even think about going back to sleep. In fact, she thought she might have been sleep crying again, an action she had found herself doing since the third night. She'd forbidden herself from crying during the day after the first night; unfortunately she couldn't always control what she did while in the throes of a dream.

Once she'd sufficiently cleaned up, Wanda headed to the kitchen on cat's paws to make herself a cup of tea. She was careful to stay silent and not wake any of the Avengers still staying in the tower. She got along fine with all of them though, now that they were all on the same team. Just a few hours earlier, she'd had a conversation with Natasha about eastern European music over a roasted chicken and slightly warm lemonade.

She waited for the tea to heat up, paging absentmindedly through a catalogue someone (probably Tony) had left lying out. Popular Mechanics, the title read.

As soon as the kettle whistled, she found a light yellow cup with a chipped rim and filled it to the brim with scalding hot tea. She couldn't help remembering a New Year's Eve sometime in her past-when Pietro had insisted on gulping down almost a full cup of hot tea even though the scalding liquid burnt his tongue and the back of his throat.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Startled, she looked up as Steve took a seat across from her and poured himself his own cup of tea. "Yeah. Guess not."

He gestured to her beverage. "Try it with a little milk. You'd be surprised how sweet it tastes."

After reluctantly adding milk, she was inclined to agree.

"So, nightmares?" Steve asked, taking another swallow of tea.

"You could say that."

"About Pietro?"

"Of course."

"You're not really as well off as you would have us believe, are you? This isn't the first nightmare." It wasn't a question.

"How do you know?"

"Everyone does-they're just too polite to say so. It's not always exactly the kind of thing you want people to speak up about, when you want to work through them on your own. Sometimes I think I hear crying in the middle of the night, and you're so tired in the morning that you need more coffee to get you up than Clint does-and when that happens, there is a serious problem."

She examined the wooden table underneath her fingertips. "I apologize. I've been working on them. They aren't as bad as they were, but they still need work-obviously-"

"You don't get it. What I want to say is that I know what you're going through." Steve cleared his throat and tapped a fingernail against the rim of his cup in a slow, monotonous rhythm. "When I was in the army during World War Two, I had a best friend. His name was Bucky Barnes-and he was like the brother I never had. We grew up together. I would have done anything for him-would have died for him in a heartbeat-and he'd have done the same for me.

"Then, one day, Bucky fell off a moving train while on a mission. It's a long story. Anyway, I thought he had died. I was convinced he had. And I grieved him as though I was grieving for a member of my own family. I've been through it all-the denial, the nightmares, and the days when all you can do is put up a brave front and hope the grief doesn't consume you. I've gone through it-and I want you to know that it does get better. I know it may be hard for you to believe right now. And I understand that, but someday you will feel normal. Things will go back to normal. And they'll never be the same, but they'll be okay again. Someday, you'll be able to move on. I promise."

They finished their drinks in silence. Wanda didn't know what to think. Mostly, she was surprised that super soldier Steve Rogers-Captain America, no less-could be hurt.

Then again, her mother had always said you learned something new every day-and of course, everyone faced their own challengers.

She put her dishes in the sink and smiled at him almost shyly. "Thank you."

He smiled as he poured another cup of artificial sweetener into his own tea. "Of course. Do you think you can back to sleep?"

"I think so. What about you?"

"I'm not really that tired. I think I'll stay up for a while. Thanks for the concern."

"Sure." She started to walk away.

"See you tomorrow in training?"

"Sounds good."

For a few hours at least, she was able to sleep without a single nightmare.

And no one seemed to care that she overslept the next morning.

Two days later, the sun finally came out again and Wanda decided to spend the nice weather walking in Central Park. Natasha had a classified mission on the Lower East side in the early afternoon, so they decided to meet up around noon and eat lunch in the park.

They packed a couple sandwiches and had a picnic on a large sun warmed rock with a beautiful view of 5th Avenue. They never ran out of things to talk about; they were united by a common culture and a similar abrupt move to the U.S. Natasha also told Wanda a lot about applying for citizenship, something she had been looking into since day one. If she was going to be an Avenger, she might as well be an American-although she was having a hard time navigating the world of green cards and visas.

Inevitably, the conversation got around to Sokovia.

"There could have been many more casualties." Natasha said carefully, well aware that she could be treading on thin ice.

"Yes-and war makes children grow up far before their time." Wanda remembered two days without food or water, when the only things that were real and solid were Pietro's arms around her and the bomb in the next room, ready to go off at any moment.

Natasha sighed. "You know, you don't have to do it alone. We've all seen loss. We've all seen war. And I guess none of us were that close with Pietro yet, but he was still one of us. He shouldn't have died, and I know how important he was to you."

"He was my everything."

"I know. All I'm saying is that you don't have to grieve alone."

Wanda rolled a small, smooth pebble carefully from hand to hand. "For years, Pietro and I had only each other. We had no one to turn to, no one to trust-"

"But times are different. You don't have to be alone anymore. You're an Avenger-and Avengers look out for each other."

It had been eleven days.

Eleven days since Wanda had lost the only person she had left.

At first, she had seen Pietro everywhere-in a jogger she passed on a street corner, in a museum docent with unusually light blond hair, in her own reflection when she combed her hair out at night.

She still saw him now, just not as often. And the disappointment was easier to take when she inevitably realized that the jogger was just a jogger or the docent was just a docent. She had realized that Pietro had made his choice-a choice for good. He'd moved on, and so should she. He would never come back, but she had to go on living, for both of them.

It was time to let go.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Clint asked as he pointed out the boat he'd rented for her. It bobbed in the outriding current, the only one on the Central Park lake this late at night. "If you want me to, I can-"

"No. I have to do this myself." Wanda cradled her red jacket almost lovingly in one arm, as though it was far more valuable than a cheap piece of clothing that was one of millions that came off a production line in China each day. And in a way it was-it was still covered in blood. She couldn't bring herself to wash it out. "I'll be back within the hour."

Clint nodded and went back to his car, which was still idling warily. Tony had offered to lend them one of his prototype self-driving cars with a built in soda machine, but he'd politely declined. Wanda was glad-after Ultron, she barely even trusted a simple computer. And she especially didn't trust anything patented with the name Stark Industries on it.

Call it a force of habit.

She turned back to the small boat and climbed in. It was a nice size-big enough for her to stretch her legs and make herself comfortable but still easy to control. She began to row toward the center of the lake, oars cutting through midnight black water. It was late; she was the only one still out this late in the night. She stopped only when she was in the exact center of the lake. The boat shifted slightly in the current and the moonlight spilled out over her like a long white cape. She almost fancied she could see Pietro's reflection watching her from the depths of the lake. It was so calm and peaceful.

She pulled a match out of the jacket pocket and began to worry it between her fingers. "I wish I could have had more time." she whispered. "I wish I could have had more time to tell you I love you, more time to calm your fears, more time to share memories. I hope you're at peace. I'm trying to let you go and I'm trying to move on-because I know that's what you would want me to do. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I won't get to spend another day with you. You'll never go to college and get a graduate degree, the way you always talked about. I'll never be the maid of honor at your wedding. I'll never again get to save the world with you by my side.

"But I could never be more proud of you. You've done so much, more than I could ever do…and for that I thank you. Thank you for dying for something good, for dying a hero's death. It makes things hurt less, when I know that you died for a purpose, in a way most people only dream of. Thank you for waiting for me and for letting me say my goodbyes. Someday I will see you again. I firmly believe that.

"And when that day comes, we'll have a lot to talk about."

She lit the match, one little flame in a world of darkness. She touched it to the jacket, watching as the fire transferred from one object to the next and everything burned.

She dropped it all into the water, watching the jacket dissolve into ash. She could always buy another one, but it would never be the same.

Wanda's eyes were dry, which was better than she could have hoped for. Instead of sadness, she felt only peace. It made her consider, for the first time since Sokovia, even the mere possibility that things would turn out okay.

Later that night, Wanda woke in the middle of the night again. At first she thought it was because of another nightmare, but she wasn't crying.

And then she heard the commotion out in the hallway.

Immediately she thought _We're under attack._

Her bedroom door flew open and Clint stood framed in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep. He raised a hand before she could say anything and began to talk haltingly, as if he couldn't really believe what he was saying. "Calm down. It's not what you think. Everyone's fine. It's just…"

"Just what?" Her heart thrummed like a nervous animal's.

"It's Pietro. He's woken up. And he seems to be very much alive."

 **See? I told you things would get better! I just couldn't leave Pietro dead…**

 **As a side note, I've also decided not to have any pairings in this story because I'd like to focus on the relationship between the twins and how they're adjusting to all the new changes in their lives.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite!**


	4. Unbelievable News

**You guys are all amazing! Thank you so much for all the support. I'm having so much fun writing this story. I'm so glad you enjoy reading it! :)**

 **Note: In this story, Dr. Cho is still alive. I assume she died in AOU, but for the purposes of plot, she survived the events of the movie.**

 **Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

 _Pietro is alive._

Wanda was moving before the archer's words had fully registered. She practically flew into the main lounge, where all meals and movies usually took place. At this time of night, the room was devoid of any food and/or popcorn. The other members of the team were scattered around the edges of the room in various stages of awareness-except for Vision, who seemed not to need sleep-along with Doctor Helen Cho and Nick Fury. And then there was…

Pietro.

Wanda pinched herself so hard her skin bruised. This had to be a dream-and she wanted to wake up. She wanted to minimize the pain she would feel when she eventually realized that this was just another vision her mind conjured up so she could rest easily at night. None of this was real. It couldn't be real. The heart monitor had flat lined. She'd heard it. She still heard it, on nights when the tower got too quiet. She stopped in the center of the room, unable to take another step.

The person who looked like her brother was watching her curiously. "Wanda." he said in a near whisper.

"Who are you?" she replied. He couldn't be Pietro. Pietro had died in the Battle of Sokovia. He'd died a hero-but he'd died just the same.

"Pietro. It's me. It's really me. I swear it is."

"I saw you die."

"Dr. Cho put me in experimental surgery. She managed to regrow all the tissue I'd lost, replenish all the spilled blood, and eventually shock my heart enough to get it to start beating again. After that everything else came back, but slowly. There's a very long and scientific explanation as to how it all works, but I don't really understand it myself." He cocked his head like a puppy waiting for a handout. "You didn't see that coming."

"Getting old, kid. Getting really old." Clint groaned from across the room, even as he smiled ruefully.

In about three seconds flat, Wanda was in her brother's arms, hugging him so tightly she doubted he could breathe properly. But for once she didn't care because he felt so real. So strong, solid, and…right. She brushed a hand across his chest, fingers playing over the places where his abdomen had been ripped apart by bullets. His wounds, which had seemed so fatal at the time, were just a dim and distant memory. There was barely even scar tissue to mark where they had been. "I thought you were dead."

"So did I-but now I'm back. And don't worry-I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." Even so, Wanda was still thinking _That's what you said last time._

Tony cleared his throat, still looking more than a little confused. "All right! Well, this is great news! Now, who's up for eggs and waffles?"

Although it was only just after five in the morning, everyone was up for the day. After all, resurrections weren't something that happened every day.

Pietro slipped his hand into hers as they walked to the kitchen and Wanda was surprised by how normal it all felt.

She hadn't realized just how much she had missed his touch.

"Are you sure that what you brought back is one hundred percent the kid and not some weird ghost thing that's secretly planning to murder us all?"

Pietro knew what they said about him behind his back. No one could believe that the surgery had actually worked-in a way, neither could he.

He gently coaxed Wanda to eat another piece of toast. She wasn't eating much-she just sipped from her coffee cup and fiddled with his hair. It was all over the place, and of course she took it upon herself to smooth it back and make sure he looked presentable. He didn't mind-in fact, it was a relief to feel her warmth instead of the…cold.

Just after he closed his eyes for the last time, when he'd stopped feeling the touch of Wanda's hand in his own, he'd found himself wandering the streets of Sokovia. Not war torn Sokovia, but the Sokovia he remembered-filled with lush parks, pristine lakes, beautiful flowers, and laughing children.

He'd made his way to his old home. It was still there, right where it had been before the shelling started; proud, erect, and untouched. His parents stood on its doorstep, smiling at him and ready to welcome him home. He wanted to go with them; in fact, he was just about to enter his mother's loving embrace for the first time in almost a decade when it was all ripped away from him. Thinking back on it later, he figured that must have been around the time his heart started to beat again.

He'd been in darkness for a long time while his body had slowly repaired itself-shapeless, formless darkness where all he could do was think and wonder about the outcome of the battle. Had the transport been attacked on its way to New York? Was Wanda all right? He had no way of knowing-and not being able to move drove him crazy.

It had never quite occurred to him that he had died. Death was a thing that happened to other people, not to him. He moved too fast-too fast for the world, too fast for time, and certainly too fast for death.

Finally, he'd woken up more confused than he'd been in a very long time. He'd thought about Wanda through all the preliminary tests, when they asked him question after question to make him prove that he really was Pietro Maximoff-the first of his kind to die and live to tell about it.

After what seemed like too long a time period, he'd been brought here. And the first time he'd seen Wanda, the first time he'd held her in his arms again, he knew that it had all been worth it. Every single minute of it.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked, spearing another piece of bacon. His superfast metabolism was working faster than ever since he hadn't had anything to eat in almost two weeks.

"Explored New York City. It's amazing, Pietro-there are so many buildings and so many people. It's so much bigger than Sokovia."

"Someday we'll have to go see a museum or something like that."

"Yeah. I guess we will." For the first time she could consider going to see the Statue of Liberty with her brother, or driving around Central Park in one of those hansom cabs. It could be a reality now-and a world of possibilities had just opened up to her.

"This deserves a celebration." Steve said from the head of the table. "Tonight, let's go for shawarma." All the other Avengers applauded loudly.

Pietro didn't really care where they went to eat. He felt he'd been given a second chance at life-and he was determined to make it count.

That night, Wanda had another nightmare.

It was different from the others she'd had in the past. In this one, HYDRA attacked the tower and she and her brother were caught in the crossfire. She was only able to watch as the bullets pierced Pietro's chest…one, two, three, four, five, six…

She didn't realize she'd been crying until Pietro shook her awake. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. It was just like it had been at the children's homes they'd practically grown up in-when the nightmares came, he was always there to comfort her.

And they'd both had a lot of nightmares.

It took a moment for her to realize where she was-in her bedroom in the unharmed Avengers Tower, with her brother at her side. "Pietro." she whispered. She had to say it; had to hear him respond.

"I'm right here." he replied. "You cried out."

"Just a nightmare. I have had a lot of them lately."

"You should not have to."

They lapsed into silence for a while, watching the city that never sleeps go by below them. It shone and glittered as a million people with a million different lives and a million different places to be moved from one place to another; steadfast and unchanging.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked.

Pietro turned away from the window, one eyebrow raised curiously. "Anything."

"When you…got shot…did you really die?"

He looked away, eyes veiled. His fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the white bedspread. "I think so. I saw things I can't truly explain-unless I had an out-of-body experience or something like that."

"What did you see?"

"Our parents. Our home in Sokovia as it used to be-tall redbrick houses, children playing hopscotch on the sidewalks, and the scent of Mama's fresh biscuits floating through an open window on a light breeze. I felt like we could be happy again; that things could go back to the way they were before. It was…amazing."

"Do you wish you were still there?"

He considered the prospect for a moment, but ultimately shook his head firmly. "No. My place is here, with you. Someday, when we go into the Great Beyond or whatever that was…we'll go together, as brother and sister. I won't leave you behind again."

"Good." She gently touched his chest, to feel his heartbeat under her fingertips. It was strong and steady. It definitely belonged in the realm of the living.

She fell asleep hearing that same heartbeat running through her head, like a broken record that kept getting stuck in the same spot every time she replayed it. But unlike a broken record, the heartbeat didn't bother her at all.

Something was different about Wanda.

Before Sokovia had gone flying, Pietro had been fond of pranking his sister. He loved finding little ways to push her buttons and annoy her-sometimes even to the point where she would shoot a few (relatively) harmless hexes at him. It had always been a game between them-he would hide the TV remote, use up what little Wi-Fi they had, and sing opera in the shower so loudly and obnoxiously that he was sure the entire government would be able to hear him. Then Wanda would yell at him and/or threaten to take away the pair of Beats he'd stolen from an Apple store a couple years previously (which was still his most prized possession)-or, in the days after they'd gotten their powers, just hex him a few times. If she could catch him, that is.

Once, when he'd been singing in the shower loud enough to wake the dead, she'd pretended to be the Sokovian Secret Police and had almost knocked down the bathroom door. Pietro still maintained that the reason he had screamed that loudly was because he'd had an untimely voice crack. He hadn't been startled, of course.

Now, everything had changed. Wanda had changed. She barely smiled and laughed even less. She didn't show much emotion and she had nightmares every other night, though Pietro knew she didn't always tell him when they occurred. Every time he tried to get a ruse out of her, he was met with a demeanor like a mountain lake-cool, controlled, and-if he didn't know better-indifferent.

When he purposefully spent too much time taking a bath and used up all the hot water, she didn't even scold him. She just took a cold shower without complaint.

When he stole food from her plate at meal times, she didn't move to stop him.

When he hid the TV remote, she simply searched until she found it.

During training she was like a machine-almost robotic in the way she destroyed this and zapped that. It was almost as though Baron Von Strucker was still whispering in her ear, telling her what to do. Pietro kept trying to get her to laugh, or at the very least smile, but it was an almost impossible task.

Finally, he stopped Clint in the hallway one night after dinner. "Hey, do you think there is something…off about Wanda?"

Clint looked at him curiously. "Off how?"

"She's…cold. She never smiles, never laughs, and never shows any kind of emotion."

"When you were gone she stifled her feelings-all that grief and pain she must have been feeling after you died." Clint was glaring at him now, as though that was supposed to be his fault. "I can't imagine how much she has to readjust completely now that you're back from the dead-literally. Give her some time. She'll come around."

Of course, that just made Pietro want to try harder to make her happy and to make up for the twelve eternally long days he'd been gone. He took her to Broadway shows two nights a week, bought her nice things (including a particularly expensive diamond necklace from a store called Tiffany's) and even took her for midnight walks in Central Park. Nothing he did made the slightest bit of difference. Wanda remained withdrawn and closed, a shell of her former self.

Pietro was determined to break her out.

Wanda was back in the HYDRA base in Sokovia, from the days of tests, injections, and experimental drugs every other day.

The Baron paced the hallway outside her cell. This vaguely confused her, as she was nearly one hundred percent sure he had died in the attack on the base some time ago. It occurred to her that she had to be dreaming. She would have woken up immediately had the scientist not started talking. "It is nice to have Pietro back, isn't it?" he asked in a thick accent.

She nodded guardedly.

"Enjoy it while you can."

"What?" Pietro was back-and he was here to stay.

He'd promised her he wouldn't leave her again.

"He can't stay forever, you know. You saw him die. You weren't there to save him. You shouldn't have protected him like you should have. Decisions like that have repercussions. Sooner or later he will leave you again-and this time his forever will be permanent."

"Be quiet." Wanda replied. "Pietro is alive. And he's going to stay that way."

"I guess we'll have to see, won't we?"

And then Wanda woke up, completely alone and perfectly safe but still haunted by the dream. Both Dr. Cho and her brother had told her that Pietro was fine. They had said the surgery worked, and it was just as though he had never taken those bullets in the first place.

But what if he wasn't as alright as he seemed? What if there were other complications he didn't know about-complications no one knew about, even Dr. Cho?

She didn't know if she could bear the pain of losing him again.

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	5. Over the Line

**Thank you for the continued support!**

 **I suppose we now enter 'Part Two' of the story. It's probably about halfway done, so plan on three or four more chapters.**

 **Enjoy!**

Pietro hadn't meant to take things too far.

Honestly, he hadn't.

He'd just wanted to play a practical joke and get a little reaction out of Wanda. But now everyone was mad at him, he was facing thousands of dollars in damages, and his sister wasn't even speaking to him.

Things could have gone better.

It had all started earlier that morning, when he'd seen that stupid painting at the Met…

"What do you think of this?" Pietro eyed the painting in front of him critically. It was one of those Madonna type ones from the Renaissance period, by an artist with a foreign name that he knew he probably wouldn't be able to say without butchering it completely.

"It's beautiful." Wanda replied, looking at the row of small white cherubs around the painting's border.

"So, are you excited for the party tonight?" Thor was leaving for Asgard to return Loki's scepter, and Tony was throwing a big party to see him off. Pietro was beginning to wonder if Tony threw parties just for the sake of having something to celebrate-and a chance to show off all his new Iron Man suits. He'd been in Avengers Tower for about three weeks now and he'd already had to attend two fancy parties-which each required a new tuxedo.

Wanda shrugged. "There will be a lot of people there." She'd always been shy around large groups of people-even before the shelling.

"There always are at these types of things. Do you have an outfit picked out?" Pietro had had to go shopping for a new suit the night before and had resented every minute of it.

"Yes. Tony's assistant, Pepper, took me dress shopping."

"Sounds fun." As Wanda began to chatter on about her new dress, Pietro turned to look at the paintings on the other side of the room. One in particular caught his attention-a painting of the Boston Massacre. Soldiers in blue coats and soldiers in red coats were firing back and forth at each other, while two or three men lay bleeding out on the ground. Their blood looked so fake-just a slash or a dab of bright red paint across a gritty cloth canvas.

And that was how Pietro got his bright idea.

The guests started arriving almost two hours before the party was officially supposed to start. Pietro had thought he would be overdressed in his black tie outfit-but almost everyone else was dressed even more formally than he was. Even Natasha had picked out a dress of midnight black-and she wasn't the only one. There had to be at least two hundred guests, all spread out across the tower.

Wanda was wearing a blood red dress dripping with rhinestones. She looked almost out of place in all that finery when Pietro remembered that they'd had to wear rags for years; even a handful of the jewels that bedecked her collar bone could have kept them fed for a full six months if they had been trading through the black market. She smiled at him as he took a seat next to her, sipping from a champagne glass. "Hello."

"Hi. You look very nice."

"Thank you."

Just then, Clint walked in. "Why aren't the two of you enjoying the party?" Belatedly, Pietro supposed that they were being just a little antisocial, ensconced as they were in the tower's penthouse apartment with an eight foot flat screen television and five seasons of Game of Thrones on click.

Pietro shrugged. "We don't really know anyone, in case you forgot."

"Well, get to know them then. They all want to meet you."

He exchanged a glance with Wanda. "Do they know about…us?"

"Well, they know that you're fast and she's weird. No offense. They don't know that you died and came back to life."

"You know what? I think I'll stay here and watch television." The HYDRA base where he'd spent most of the past five years hadn't had a proper TV, and what they did show was simply government propaganda; Pietro had a lot of watching to do to catch up with all the new shows.

"I'll come downstairs." Wanda said, surprising them both. "Could be fun. And I can always come back up if I get bored, right?"

"Of course." Clint followed her outside and Pietro heard their footsteps fade away as they reached the stairwell to the lower levels. Immediately, he sprang up from the couch and ran into the bathroom to begin his plan.

He pulled out a bucket of red paint he'd picked up at the dollar store, ripped his tux just slightly, and painted thick swathes of red across his chest and the carpet. It would be hard to clean up, but it would be worth it. He wanted to get a reaction out of Wanda, just a little one. And then they would laugh about it all later. After all, this was one of the oldest pranks in their book-although he hadn't tried it for a few years.

He sprawled out on the floor and gave his best impression of playing dead. _Don't drag it out too long. Just long enough,_ he coached himself.

Pietro waited for a long time. The paint soon began to dry; he kept having to go over it again so it would look convincing. He also had time to have doubts about the whole thing. Was it really necessary to go through with it? What if something went wrong?

He shifted nervously. It was just a prank. He'd done it before and it hadn't bothered Wanda then.

Just then, the door opened and he let himself go limp. His eyes were tightly shut.

A piercing scream split the night air in two and he felt Wanda drop to her knees next to him. "Pietro!" she cried, grabbing his hand and automatically feeling for a pulse. Pietro was shocked to realize that she was trembling profusely, almost hyperventilating.

He sat up quickly. "Fooled you." He tried to smile, but it felt forced even to him.

For a while, there was dead silence. And then Wanda slapped him so hard he knew it would probably leave a bruise. Her eyes were tinged with red; in fact, she seemed almost to be on fire. "How dare you." she whispered. Her voice was low and dangerous. "How dare you play mind games with me like that."

"Wanda, it was just a-"

"For a minute I thought you were dead. I thought you had actually died."

"I didn't mean to-"

"But you did, Pietro. How could you do that?" She looked like she was either going to cry or slap him again.

"I wasn't thinking-"

"Of course you weren't. You obviously didn't once think about how hard these past couple weeks have been for me-first you're dead, now you're not, now you are, and then it turns out you were just playing a game. Well, let me tell you something: the time for games is long over."

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes sparked. "Sorry isn't good enough. She sent a hex hurling directly at his head. He ducked to avoid it; the magic smashed into the back wall with a loud crash and a smell like burning drywall.

They both stared at the carnage, which still smoked hotly. Pietro couldn't believe that she'd actually tried to strike him like that. Of course, she'd hexed him sometimes just to get back at him once or twice, but she'd never used raw power or intensity like that. He was sure if he hadn't ducked in time his head would have been completely blown off. But things had changed now. Things had changed in a seismic way. "Wanda-"

"No. just stop it." She looked about as shocked as he felt.

"Well, it would be nice if you talked to me once in a while. I was trying to get a rise out of to you, so I could see for myself that you weren't really made out of stone. You don't tell me anything anymore. You barely talk to me, except for when we train. I don't understand what your problem is, and I can't make it better since you won't tell me anything."

Her eyes flashed and more energy streamed from her hands. It crashed harmlessly into the window with the sound of breaking glass, but Pietro had to duck again just to be certain.

"Fine. Game on."

Pietro soon forgot what they were fighting over. He was running circles around her as she sent ball after ball of florid energy chasing after him with the force of a speeding train. He'd never seen her get this worked up, even during the Battle of Sokovia. Wanda had always been the grounded one, level and calm. She was the one that thought things through and usually made the best decisions. But now it seemed like all of that had gone out the window, and he knew it was his fault.

The door to the room burst open and Tony walked inside, followed by the other Avengers. "What just happened in here and how much is it going to cost me to replace?"

Pietro stopped for a minute, as did Wanda. For the first time he saw what the others must have been seeing-they were both covered in dust and red paint, shaking and upset. The room was in shambles. The TV lay in four pieces, its screen smashed in. The floor was covered in broken glass and red paint. "Wanda kind of…lost it."

Wanda glared at him, but no power shot from her hands. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have gotten upset if you hadn't pretended to be dead!"

Everyone turned to face Pietro, so he raised his hands in surrender. "This is not what it looks like."

Abruptly, Wanda brushed past him and out of the room. Now there was no doubt about it-she was tearing up. Pietro felt terrible about it. He turned to follow her but Clint reached the doorway first. "I'll go make sure she's all right."

"I can-"Pietro cut in, but the archer easily brushed him off.

"Might not be the best idea, in case she starts hexing stuff again."

Steve waited until his footsteps had faded away before he turned back to Pietro. His eyes flashed almost distrustfully, but there was nothing accusing in his voice when he asked Pietro "Care to explain what happened in here?"

"She hasn't been acting like herself recently-"

"So you thought it was a good idea to provoke her?" Natasha retorted.

Pietro felt Steve's hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle. "Pietro and I are going to get some shawarma. Back in an hour."

Wanda wiped more tears from her eyes furiously, discarding the soaked tissue with a small huff. She didn't want to cry and yet she didn't know how to make herself stop. She didn't even know why she'd gone so crazy, to be honest-maybe just the shock and the stress. That one terrible moment…she knew he hadn't meant to do that to her, it had probably never even crossed his mind since he didn't really think like that, but it stung just the same.

Why had that paint had to look so much like the real thing?

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door to her bedroom. "Hey, Wanda. Can I come in?" Clint asked.

"Sure." she replied, trying to make it look like she hadn't just had a meltdown. She wished he wouldn't come in, but she knew from personal experience that neither he nor any of the other Avengers could be dissuaded easily.

He stepped inside, still in his tux. "Doing all right?"

"Not really." she replied.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I blew up the room-"

"Hey, don't worry about it. You couldn't help it. Besides, Tony has enough money to buy a small South American country. He can easily replace it."

"I didn't mean to. It's just that…" She realized who she was talking to and stopped abruptly. She'd never opened up to anyone, other than Pietro of course, and she wasn't about to start now.

"You can tell me." Clint prompted. "I can keep secrets."

"When I saw him lying on the floor like that, for one second I lost all my rational ability to think. I thought the paint was blood and that I'd failed him again."

"Again? What do you mean?"

"He died. I should have been there to save him."

"You can't possibly think that. Wanda, if you hadn't protected that core, one of the Ultron bots would have gotten to it and we'd all be dead. What you did during the battle was just as important as what Pietro did."

"And when I saw him like that, I thought-"

"I know. I'm sorry you got scared. You know he wasn't really trying to hurt you. He was just being impulsive."

"I just…have these dreams where he dies again and there's nothing I can do about it. Tonight, I was convinced that dream had just come true."

"The best advice I can give you is that we could die at any moment-Pietro, you, me, anyone. We don't have time to worry about whether or not the people we love are going to be taken from us. All we can do is make the most of the time we do have with them." He handed her a cocktail napkin from downstairs and waited for her to (mostly) dry her eyes. "Listen, I'm on furlough for a week back at the farm. I was wondering if you and Pietro would like to come see it while I'm there. It could keep you away from everything that's been going on around here. You can meet Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. How would you like that?"

Wanda managed a smile that was only slightly watery. "I would love it. Thank you, Clint."

"Anytime. Maybe you should think about telling Pietro what you told me. It could help him understand."

She resolved to think about it, although she wasn't sure her brother would ever really understand. He hadn't been there. He hadn't experienced what she'd experienced. But it was worth a shot, in any case. "Yeah. Maybe I will."

The shawarma restaurant was nearly deserted at this time of night. The teenage boy who served them, the same boy who had greeted them on their last visit, seemed to be falling asleep on his feet as he stumbled to the kitchen to put in their orders.

Pietro shook his glass of iced tea nervously. Ice cubes clinking together as they passed each other. "I screwed up."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. I would say you did."

"I didn't mean to. I'd done this prank before. She was fine with it then-"

"That was before she watched you die. Did you think about that? Didn't you think that might have upset her just a little bit, having to bring up all those memories that I'm sure she wants to keep hidden?"

"Well, when you say it like that-"

"She needs to know that you're not going to leave her again-or any time soon. I think she wants to be sure she can still trust you."

"I'm her brother."

"Right. And three weeks ago, you were dead. Give her time-and please don't get her worked up again. It would be nice to keep the Tower intact-for as long as we can, in any case."

Pietro nodded. "Sure."

Just then, the shawarma arrived and they spent a little while making sure they had sufficient napkins and silverware. "So, are you going to Clint's farm with Wanda later in the week?"

"Clint has a farm? Since when?"

"I know, right? I just learned about it myself."

"Anyway, I'd like to go but I don't think Wanda and I are on the best of terms at the moment."

"The two of you will figure something out. You're too close to let a little something like this get in the way, although I wouldn't do any more practical jokes for quite a while."

Pietro nodded and dug into his shawarma. He really hoped Steve was right.

He had to find a way to reconcile with his sister. Maybe things could never be the way they were before, but Pietro was determined to try.

 **Next up: the farm!**

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	6. At the Farm

**Get ready for a chapter of pure fluff!**

 **This chapter is significantly longer; hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: see chapter 1.**

"Here, I'll take that." Clint grabbed Pietro's dry leather suitcase and threw it into the back of the Quinjet, next to Wanda's new red one. "We only have a few hours airtime before we get to the farm, so I hope you brought something else to do."

Pietro nodded. Namely, he'd brought a Kindle.

He took a seat next to Wanda, who was trying to read a magazine while completely ignoring him. "Hey." he said quietly.

He was met with only dead air in response.

He sighed, although he hadn't expected anything less, and pulled on his Beats as he pulled open the Netflix home screen. He could already tell this was going to be a very, very long flight.

Four hours later, Pietro was shaken awake by Clint. "We'll be touching down in about twenty minutes."

Wanda was packing up her magazine while Natasha stood in the back of the plane, brewing coffee. She'd be coming too, at least for the first few days-until she was wanted for an urgent mission in Moscow.

Pietro watched out of the corner of his eye as a large split level farmhouse came into view. "What is this place?"

"My home-and my family. My wife, Laura; and my three children: Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. Nathaniel Pietro."

"Didn't see that coming."

Clint smirked. "That joke is getting so old it's not even funny anymore."

"And yet you're still laughing."

"No, kid, I'm smirking. There's a difference."

"You're laughing."

The plane landed with barely a bump in the middle of acres and acres of farmland. Pietro couldn't see any other sign of civilization-it was like they had fallen off the edge of the map, to a place where nothing else mattered. Not HYDRA. Not even SHIELD.

He shouldered his backpack and held the door open for Wanda as she followed Clint outside. She barely acknowledged him, without even a nod. Then she walked up a small gravel path to the front door, where Clint was fishing a key ring out of his pocket. He found the correct key and fit it into the lock, watching as the door slid open with barely a squeak on well-oiled hinges. "Honey? I'm home." he called as he stepped inside.

A woman with dark hair and a kind smile came to greet them, enfolding him into a hug. "Clint. It's so wonderful to see you. And Natasha! How are you?" The twins stayed near the back of the group, instinctively trying to stay out of sight-

-at least until Clint pulled them forward. "This is Wanda and that's her brother, Pietro."

Laura beamed at them and shook each of their hands in turn. "It's so nice to meet the two of you I've seen so many good things. Won't you come in?" She held the door open so the others could go inside. Pietro noticed that her gaze lingered on him for just a second too long. _And that's Pietro-the kid who was just pulled back from the brink of death._

The farmhouse was happily cluttered. Legos were scattered on the floors and tables, along with half-finished drawings and books resting on their spines. It was a house that was cozy yet comfortable; old yet lived in. It had a charm that had nothing to do with its interior or its location.

Two small children were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. They looked up when the others came in, with eyes wide as saucers.

"Aunt Nat!" the little girl cried, running to give the assassin a hug. Pietro smirked but didn't laugh.

The boy, Cooper, was examining him carefully. "Are you Quicksilver?" he asked.

"That I am." Pietro smiled as best he could. He wasn't really used to children-he hadn't spent much time with them back in Sokovia.

"Dad's told us about you. Can you really run faster than the speed of sound?"

"Yes." When Pietro ran, it was almost like time slowed down-everything seemed to move in slow motion. He was able to see things as they really were-or as they were about to be-and even change them accordingly if need be.

"And you're Scarlet Witch?" Lila asked, turning to Wanda.

Wanda looked as caught off guard as Pietro had. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Can you cast spells?"

"You could say that." Even Wanda didn't know the full extent of her powers. She was always discovering something new and testing what her limits really were.

"Can you make unicorns?"

"Not quite."

Cooper was still looking at him in awe. "Will you race me later?"

"I would love to."

Laura showed him to Cooper's bedroom, a small room under the eaves that was furnished simply with a desk, a set of drawers, and a small wooden table and chair set. A cot had been set up under the window, which looked out over the farm and the surrounding fields. "I know it's not much, but I thought I'd give Wanda the spare bedroom. Cooper is practically beside himself with excitement, but I can easily find you another room if you would prefer…"

"No, it's fine. This is perfect." And he meant it.

Laura went into the adjoining bathroom to ensure he had enough soap and tools. "I heard about what happened. I thank God every day that Dr. Cho was able to pull off the medical miracle that she did. You saved my husband-and for that I can't thank you enough."

"It was nothing."

She stood in the center of the room for another minute, still watching him. "Are you sure there's nothing else you need?"

"I'm fine. Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it. We're so happy you're her." She left him to get settled in.

Pietro wondered what it would be like to live in a family like this, where you knew you were loved and cared for. Must be nice.

Unfortunately, it was a reality he could only imagine.

Cooper was ready to race. His shoes were tied securely and he'd spent an hour running circles around an old shed at the far end of the property. He wasn't that bad-but he still seemed confident he would beat Pietro.

 _How wrong he is._

He pointed out a large red barn in the middle of the yard. "Race around the yard and then come back to this point. Okay?"

"Okay." Pietro glanced down at his tennis shoes. They were filthy and caked in dust and grime-which reminded him that he would have to get a new pair sometime soon. He was an Avenger-he had an image to uphold.

Lila and Wanda sat on the porch, each holding two signs-one which endorsed Pietro and the other which endorsed Cooper. Lila was watching with rapt attention, while Wanda watched with mild interest. Pietro could almost read the look on her face. _The little boy is going to beat you._

He would have to give her a show.

Lila cleared her throat loudly. "On your marks…get set…go!"

Pietro was off like a shot. He felt the world slowing down as he rounded the side of the barn. He sprinted back to the finish line and the world resumed its normal pace-loud, pulsing, and vibrant.

Both Lila and Cooper were watching him with openmouthed awe. "That's amazing." Lila whispered as her GO COOPER sign fluttered to the ground, forgotten.

He looked down, embarrassed. He'd never been one to flaunt his powers, but no one had ever looked at him like that before-like he was anything more than an abomination. It definitely took a little bit of getting used to.

Cooper grinned back at him. "Care to have a rematch?"

"No!" Lila cried, running over to them as well. "I want you to give me a piggyback ride!" She clambered onto his back and squealed in elation as Pietro ran her around the large yard. In spite of himself, Pietro couldn't help smiling as he heard her high pitched giggles.

He glanced back once to see Cooper trying and failing to keep up with him. Wanda was still watching from the porch-although from this distance he couldn't tell if she was smiling or not.

Wanda couldn't remember a time she'd felt happier than the days she spent at the farm.

She was busy from sunup to sundown, exploring the farm and its surrounding acres of land or playing with one of the kids-Cooper, Lila, or baby Nathaniel, who was so young he could barely sit up. They went swimming in a nearby pond, played in the hayloft amid fragrant bales of hay, and walked miles across green fields under the mild sun. Laura had a grill out almost every night, using her own fruits and vegetables that had been raised in the sun warmed dirt. They still had an earthy taste. It was the best food she or Pietro had ever eaten, and they couldn't get enough of it. Pietro still tried to reach out to her, but Wanda was content to ignore him.

Today, Lila had dragged her off to make dolls out of cornhusks. They sat in the hayloft braiding the husks together as Cooper and Pietro ran around in the field below. Pietro was just a blur as he streaked across the farmland, as Cooper rushed to keep up with him. He was always clamoring for a rematch, no matter how many times he lost against Pietro. At least he was a good sport about the whole thing.

"Why don't you ever talk to Pietro?" Lila asked, braiding a flower crown out of snow white daisies.

 _How do you explain resurrection to a five year old?_ "He played a practical joke on me and he really got me upset."

"Oh. Cooper does that to me sometimes. I hate it when he does that."

"I guess that's what brother do, right?"

"Yeah. Why do you cry at night sometimes?"

 _Another priceless question._ "I don't know…sometimes I don't even realize it."

"Cooper always helps me when I start crying. Once a boy at school punched him right in the face! Mama wasn't happy, but it was really awesome!"

Wanda had to smile, absentmindedly tying off her flower chain. It had to be nice to be that innocent. "Maybe." She looked out the window again. Pietro and Cooper appeared to be cloud gazing again, lying on their backs in the middle of the field.

Pietro noticed her watching and waved to her tentatively. His blond hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions like stalks of corn after a windstorm.

She smiled and waved back.

The next morning, Pietro made another pot of coffee. He'd been skeptical of the drink at first, but Wanda seemed to love it so he decided to try it once or twice.

Of course, now he couldn't get enough of it. Today, he couldn't find the creamer so he drank his coffee black and bitter.

Just then, he noticed Lila coloring at the kitchen table. "I drew something for you." She handed him a piece of paper with a drawing of two kids playing in a green filed. One had bright yellow hair, while the other had a more subtle shade of brown. They were holding hands and smiling wider than Pietro would have thought was humanly possible.

"Thank you, Lila. I love it." he said truthfully, hugging her tightly.

"That's you, and that's your sister." Lila said, pointing each of them out. "I'm glad Daddy brought you guys to visit us. You're both really nice."

"Thanks. So are you and your brothers." Pietro glanced down at the picture again. He was surprised to see just how much it looked like him and Wanda. "You're a very nice artist."

"Thanks. Hey, do you want to make a picture?" She practically pushed a piece of paper into his hands. "I have a lot of colors."

Pietro had to smile as he started to sketch.

Later that morning, Clint and Natasha had to fly back to New York. Clint would be back in only a couple days to pick up the twins; Laura had found out about a harvest festival that would take place in a nearby village in a few days' time and had insisted Pietro and Wanda attend. The whole family turned out to see them off, despite the early hour.

"Bye, Aunt Nat!" Lila said, giving her another hug.

Natasha ruffled her hair. "Bye, Lila. See you soon. Draw me another picture while I'm gone, okay?"

"Okay."

She turned to the twins, who now stood with the rest of the group. "Look at the two of you. Not hiding at the back anymore."

Pietro glanced down in embarrassment. "Times have changed."

"I'll say. Have fun these last couple of days. See you back in New York."

Next up was Clint. "Take care of them." he whispered.

Pietro nodded and Wanda mirrored him. They didn't even need to be asked.

They stayed outside for a long time, until the Quinjet was just a speck on the eastern horizon flying into the rising sun. Laura's face was frozen in a smile as she continued waving long after her husband had lost sight of her. Pietro wondered how she could be so calm and collected knowing that Clint might never come back. Then again, he supposed she had to be used to it. You had to be, in this line of work. Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, she sighed and turned to face the others. "Who wants to go strawberry picking?" she asked cheerfully.

Too cheerfully.

The acres of forest bordering the farmhouse were filled with ripe berry bushes. They spent hours out of doors armed with small plastic pails to use for collecting the fruit-bright red strawberries, deep blue blueberries, and small raspberries and blackberries. They exploded in Pietro's mouth with just the tiniest amount of pressure, bombarding his tongue with flavor. His hands were stained with berry juice and his ribs hurt from so much laughter.

Every so often, he chanced a glance over at Wanda. She seemed to be having the time of her life, as strawberries were one of her absolute favorite foods.

He had a few more races with Lila and Cooper. He even allowed Lila to beat him once or twice-until she accused him of letting her win. He was surprised to realize how much the kids had grown on him-they were like the little sister and brothers he'd never had and never known he'd wanted. For his entire life, he'd just had Wanda; it was almost refreshing to meet some new people-especially since Wanda still wouldn't talk to him.

That night he made a blanket fort in the middle of the family room with the aid of Cooper, Lila, and even Wanda. They spent the night watching movies, while Laura made them all warm glasses of hot chocolate before she went to bed. Quite possibly, it was the best thing Pietro had ever tasted-but the kids acted like it was just an everyday occurrence-which it might have been, for all he knew.

She laughed when she saw him gulping it down and ruffled his white blond hair. "You're still a kid under that façade, aren't you? Let me guess: you like hot chocolate, KRAFT mac and cheese, bedtime stories, and happy endings."

Pietro glanced to Wanda. _Have we ever had KRAFT mac and cheese?_ "Well, happy endings are nice every once in a while, I suppose."

She climbed inside the fort with them, Cooper on one side and Lila on the other. "How about I tell you a story-just for tonight?"

He had to smile. He didn't remember the last time he'd been told a bedtime story, although he could remember his mother singing Russian lullabies over his cradle if he thought back far enough. "Sure."

"Okay. Can we do Rapunzel?" Lila asked, climbing onto her mother's lap.

"Of course. You can even help me tell it, since you know the story so well. Come on, Wanda. You don't have to stay in the corner like that. We're all friends here." Laura invited. Wanda reluctantly moved forward a little bit. This was a new experience for both the twins-either that or an experience that could barely remember having.

Laura separated her daughter's hair into three sections and began to braid deftly. "Now, how do all good fairy tales begin?" she continued.

"Once upon a time!" Lila cried.

"Exactly. Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom…" Laura's voice was soft and quiet as she took them into a world of hidden towers, evil witches, and beautiful princesses. By the time she'd ended the story with 'happily ever after', Lila was fast asleep and Cooper appeared to be on the brink.

"Don't stay up too late." she whispered to the twins as she tucked them in like a mother hen. For once, they didn't protest. In fact, Pietro realized he almost enjoyed being babied-every once in a very great while. Then she left. Pietro could hear her locking up for the night and then her soft footsteps on the stairwell as she went to bed.

Cooper yawned and shifted on his elbow until he was facing Pietro. Wanda was already asleep, to Pietro's surprise. Not only that, but she seemed to be sleeping regularly. "Mom says the two of you are superheroes."

Pietro went red. "That was nice of her."

"She said you helped Dad save the world."

"Well, we just helped. Your father did most of the work."

"My dad is a superhero too, you know."

"I know. He's a very good one." Pietro hesitated, unsure of how to present the question on his mind. "Do you…I mean, are you ever afraid that one day your father won't return home from a mission?"

"Of course. All the time. But Mom says we can't worry about things we can't change. If Dad ever dies, I'll know he died protecting hundreds of little children like me, Lila, and Nathaniel. And that makes his sacrifices worth it. Do you and your sister have parents?"

"We did, once. But they were killed in a shelling."  
"Maybe we could share mine-if you want to, that is."

"That might be nice."

Cooper rolled over so his back was to Pietro. "'Night, Quicksilver."

"Pietro."

"What?"

"My name…just call me Pietro."

"Okay. 'Night, Pietro."

"Good night, Cooper."

Pietro heard his breathing even out and relegate itself to a sleep rate. He was surprised to find that within ten minutes he was asleep too.

The next day, they spent another day outside. Today, it was stifling hot so they went swimming for hours. That night, Wanda encountered a new problem.

She couldn't get to sleep, much less stay asleep.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand, flipping it toward her so she could read its flashing numbers. 11:57. She listened carefully to be sure no one else was up and climbed out the window of the guest bedroom and down a small latticework to reach the back lawn.

Cicadas made their own music as she took a seat on the cool grass and waited for her brother to join her. She could sense he was up-he always was, whenever she couldn't sleep. Sure enough, two minutes later he came strolling outside. "Hey." he said, taking a seat next to her. The grass was covered with a thin film of dew, but neither of them seemed to care.

"Are you cold?" Pietro asked, out of habit or brotherly instinct.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. How about you?"

He shrugged. "I don't really get cold. Not after…that." Wanda didn't even have to guess what he was talking about. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess we do. Tomorrow is already our last day. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yes. It feels like we just got here. Are you excited for the harvest festival?"

"I would say so. Pietro, I can't remember being happier than I've been since we got here. I hope we can come back one day."

"Me too. I would love that. Wanda, I'm so sorry about what happened. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to bring up bad memories. You're right-I didn't think. I never think, and I'm very sorry. I'm going to try harder next time, because you're my sister and you deserve better. I promise I won't leave you without saying goodbye…and if I do die before you again, I promise I'll wait for you. Friends?"

"Friends." They shook on it and embraced for good measure. Wanda held on for just a second longer than normal, but Pietro didn't mind.

In fact, he almost enjoyed it.

"But if you ever do something like that again…" Wanda added.

"Don't worry. I won't." And he meant it.

They fell asleep on the dewy grass, watching the stars just like old times.

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	7. A Trip into Town

**Enjoy the next chapter!**

 **It's a little shorter, but since last chapter was so long I figure it sort of evens out in the end.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. They really make my day. :)**

 **Disclaimer: see chapter one**

"Why are you sleeping outside?"

Pietro looked up sleepily. Lila's face gradually swam into view, looking down at him curiously. At first he was confused-especially when he noticed the sun was shining extremely brightly. Then it all came back to him-the events of the last night that had led to him spending the night outside with sticks and small twigs sticking into his back.

"I got bored sleeping inside." he replied, sitting up slowly. The sun's rays were shining directly into his eyes.

Wanda stirred next to him. "Good morning, Lila."

"Good morning. Mommy wants to know if you want some breakfast."

"I would love some." She stood up and followed the little girl inside, while Lila chattered on about one Disney princess or another.

Pietro lay there for another minute, reluctant to get up. He didn't understand how Wanda could do it. He could barely sit up, much less walk the two hundred feet to the back door.

"Pietro!" Wanda called. "Last chance for oatmeal with strawberries!"

He rolled his eyes as he hauled himself to a sitting position. "Coming." The early hour was beginning to matter less and less as he felt more and more alert.

Wanda was finally talking to him again.

After all the breakfast dishes had been washed and piled into the drainer to dry, Laura drove everyone into town to buy new clothes for the harvest festival-including Pietro and Wanda.

The 'town' was little more than a village- a couple streets lined with houses and shops. There was a shop for formal clothing, where they spent most of the morning.

It took almost an hour to find a dress for Lila and a suit for Cooper. Finally, they had their clothing-and Pietro was halfway out the door. After the four hour tuxedo 'fiasco', he was very averse to the idea of buying yet another suit.

"Oh no you don't." Laura said before he could make his escape. "Pietro, Wanda, pick something out. My treat."

"Do we have to?" Pietro asked with just the smallest touch of a whine in his voice.

"Yes, you do. Find something that's comfortable. It won't take more than twenty minutes."

Reluctantly, Pietro examined a row of sport coats. They weren't as high end as the ones he had looked at before-and their price tags didn't make his eyes pop out of his skull.

To his surprise, he was able to find a suit that fit him in only twenty minutes. Meanwhile, it took Wanda a while to find a dress she liked. She insisted on trying on almost every dress in the entire store, while Laura helped and Pietro kept the kids entertained. They explored the village, watching everyone getting things ready for the festival that night.

Eventually, Wanda decided on a simple red dress that wouldn't be able to feed an army of small children with only the value of its ornamentation. "This looks nice, Wanda." Laura said as the cashier folded the dress carefully and made change from the handful of bills Laura gave her.

After that, they got lunch in a small street café with outdoor seating. It reminded Pietro of one of the cafes he'd read about in the Paris guidebook his parents had always left lying around. For those two days they'd spent hiding under the bed, he'd read and reread those guidebooks until they were ingrained in his brain.

By the time they got back to the farm, the sun was beginning to set and they only had an hour to get ready for the festival. While the girls did their hair, Cooper and Pietro crashed on the couch and watched cooking shows, just because there was nothing else on. Pietro also held baby Nathaniel, bouncing him slightly so he wouldn't cry. The baby terrified him, just a little bit. He was so afraid that he would drop Nathaniel or accidentally kill him in some other manner; this tiny human, being, this little boy who shared his name.

Nathaniel Pietro would grow up to do great things. Pietro was sure of it.

Just then, the girls came downstairs and everyone piled into the car so they could get to the harvest festival on time. Wanda had done something new with her hair and it was now braided away from her face. It looked nice; in fact, it almost made Pietro feel guilty for not doing more than running a comb through his own hair.

"So, do the two of you have any idea of what you're going to be doing when you get back to New York?" Laura asked as they walked to the town square. The little village had been completely transformed-lights were strung between houses like strings of small fairy lights, happy people drifting up the streets from their parked cars to reach the hastily erected dance floor in the center of the city laughed and talked quietly, and soft music drifted past them on a soft breeze.

"Not really." Pietro replied. He supposed they would wait for their missions, just like the other Avengers did. He wasn't really clear on how this whole superhero thing worked yet. There had even been talk of enrolling them in a public high school to finish their senior year.

The dance floor was crowded with people, but there was still room for a few more. Pietro was about to ask his sister for a dance, but someone else beat him to it.

Pietro was hesitant to let her go-especially to dance with a complete and total stranger. He couldn't help being fiercely protective of Wanda-in almost anything. But Wanda was looking at him with a barely veiled challenge in her eyes. _I'll be fine. I promise._

And so he watched carefully as her new partner pulled her into the whirl of dancers.

For the next few hours, Pietro altered between dancing with one girl or another, raiding the refreshments table, and keeping tabs on both Clint's family and Wanda. Cooper and Lila were too young to really join the dance, so they played Tag with a group of other kids in a deserted corn field. The air rang with their laughter. Laura was busy talking with a group of other women with small babies, content to watch the dance from a distance.

All too soon, the DJ was saying that the last dance was already upon them. Pietro was content to be a wallflower-until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wanda smiled at him. Her hair had come loose from its braids and now hung in waves. Her eyes were bright and she looked happier than he'd seen her in a long while. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure." He led her through set after set, counting the music under his breath so he wouldn't screw up. He needn't have worried; Wanda quickly took over, ensuring his feet followed the right pattern and landed in the right places. It felt to Pietro that the other couples on the dance floor didn't exist. There was just him and Wanda, drifting in their own little parallel universe.

He didn't want to leave the farm. He wanted to stay there forever, with the Bartons and Wanda and the wide open world. All of his problems seemed so far away; he tried not to think about the fact that he would have to leave in just a few short hours.

By the time Laura insisted they had been out long enough, especially since they had an early morning the next day, Pietro was almost asleep on his feet. The younger children fell asleep as soon as the car started and Wanda appeared to be on the brink as well. She leant her head on Pietro's shoulder and watched the dark scenery go by outside the car window. Pietro had never known that there could be so many different landscapes in one country, only separated by a few hours of air travel.

"I mean it." Laura said as they passed open countryside. "Come back, whenever you can. We've loved having the two of you here. You're such good influences for Cooper and Lila, and they both adore you. Visit us soon, okay?"

"Okay." Pietro replied. He would try as well as he could to keep his word.

When they reached home, he helped Laura and Wanda put the kids to bed. By the time he was finally able to rest, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Immediately, he set to reliving what had hands down been the best night of his life.

Looking back on it, he wished things could have ended there. He wished that Wanda hadn't woken him up a couple of hours later, saying "Pietro, something is very wrong."

After that, things had gone completely and totally downhill.

Immediately, Pietro could tell she was right. The night was silent-too silent. "Can you sense anything out of place?"

She nodded. "I think there's someone on the property."

"I'm going to check it out."

"I'm coming too."

He didn't even try to argue.

The wet grass cushioned their footsteps as they made a careful circle of the house. Pietro felt alert and on edge, startling at every sound no matter how small-the wind whistling through the trees like a breeze through a ghost town, an owl hooting, crickets chirping. Any noise could belong to their intruder. And he'd made a promise to Clint that he would look after his family. He took his promises very seriously.

Finally, they found a clump of bracken that had been disturbed and flattened. A set of muddy footprints led into the forest. They seemed to be heading to the fast flowing river that marked the edge of the property.

When they reached the river, it seemed to be deserted. Pietro stood looking into the water, waiting for the intruder to give himself away. Whoever he was, he couldn't stay hidden forever-and when he moved, the twins would be ready. After a while of waiting in silence, he began to wonder whether or not he'd just imagined everything. It had been a long night…he could easily be back in his room, fast asleep…

Just a second's lapse in judgment had been enough to distract him. He felt himself roughly pushed to the side. Wanda apologized quickly, saying she'd slipped on the wet grass. Then a gunshot went off, piercing the early morning quiet. "Are you all right?" he asked instinctively.

"Yes, I'm fine. We need to figure out who did that." Wanda said in a slightly louder tone. Almost imperceptibly, she gestured to a clump of bushes directly across from them. _There._

 _Stay here while I get him. Then you can hex him_. Pietro was off with a flash and returned a few seconds later with their prowler. He was extremely young; just a few years older than the twins. He didn't seem to mind being caught. In fact, he smiled at Pietro almost sadistically as blood dripped from a cut in his face where he'd been punched a second before. "Hail HYDRA." he whispered.

Pietro slapped him again, hard. "Don't say that. We're taking you back to SHIELD headquarters. We'll see what they want to do with you-but let me assure you that it won't be pretty."

"They can do whatever they want. It won't matter. I can still kill everyone you care about. You can still watch them die-starting with her."

Wanda touched a finger to his forehead, her eyes flashing red. The agent's eyes immediately glazed over and he dropped to his knees, shaking in obvious fright. Pietro would have pitied him if he hadn't been the enemy. He didn't know what visions Wanda had placed in his head, but he imagined they were terrible. "I almost feel guilty."

"Don't. He would have killed us if we hadn't caught him."

Just then Wanda collapsed, one hand clutching her side. With a shock, Pietro realized her shirt was stained with something red.

 _Please no._ "What happened?" he asked, kneeling next to her as he felt the telltale phantom pain himself.

She was shivering even though it was a hot night. "I saw his gun…pointed at you. He was…going to shoot and you…didn't realize. I couldn't let…that happen, but I moved too slowly. I…couldn't get out of the way…in time."

Pietro was no doctor, but the wound seemed pretty bad. It was leaking blood, try as he might to staunch the flow. "We'll fix this." he said, panicked. "Why did you have to do something like that?" It was either act irritated or lose it completely.

"You're my brother. I couldn't…let you die. Not…again." Then she seemed to faint, probably from blood loss-which didn't help Pietro's already shot nerves.

All that blood was making him nauseous, but he tried to ignore the sight. He had a mission to take care of and he couldn't afford to lose even a second letting the panic overwhelm him.

He wasn't going to let his sister die-not for him.

 **Plot twist-not out of the woods yet!**

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	8. The Longest Night

**Just saw Age of Ultron yesterday for the third time. It never gets easier.**

 **I think I lied a couple chapters ago when I said we only had two more chapters left. I can almost definitively say that there are going to be about two chapters left from this point. I have finals next week and I should probably be studying for those rather than working on a fanfiction. :)**

 **But seriously, I'm touched by all of the support. I'm so glad you like this story and I'm having a great time writing it.**

 **Disclaimer: see Chapter 1**

 **On to the next chapter!**

That night, Pietro ran faster than he had ever run before. He didn't want to leave the prisoner on his own, but Wanda took precedence-and she was fading fast.

He stumbled inside the house, not caring who heard him or what silent alarms went off. He gently placed Wanda on the couch in front of the television and tried to gauge whether or not she was comfortable. She appeared to be, but she was unconscious so he couldn't really tell. His hands were stained with blood as he fumbled for his phone and tried to call Clint. He misdialed three times before he finally got ahold of himself.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before Clint picked up and yawned sleepily. "Hey, kid. What's up?"

"Where are you at this exact moment?"

"Um…20,000 feet in the air. Why?"

"I have someone for you to pick up at the farm. Some prisoner. Says he works for HYDRA."

Clint definitely sounded awake now. "What do you mean, Pietro? Is something wrong?"

Pietro ran a hand through his short hair and tried again. He had to make the archer understand-and that wouldn't happen if he lost it. "Wanda and I thought we saw an intruder on the property. It turns out he was an agent from HYDRA. He's under control, and he's no longer a threat…but he managed to shoot Wanda. She's not doing well, Clint."

"What? Pietro, is this some kind of joke?" Even he didn't sound as if he believed it.

"No! Why would I joke about something like this? You have to hurry. I don't know how to take care of a bullet wound-should I keep checking for a pulse or something? It's leaking blood-and the blood isn't clotting."

"Calm down. Let's worry about one problem at a time. The blood seems to be the biggest problem at the moment. Have you tired applying direct pressure?"

"Yes. It's not working."

"Keep trying. I'll see how fast this thing can really go. If we really push it, I think we can be there in around forty five minutes, maybe a little less."

Pietro's heart sank. "Forty five minutes?"

"I'm doing the best I can. Normally, we'd still have two hours left. I'll also put Dr. Cho on standby, just in case. We'll be able to fix this, Pietro. Just stay calm for you sister and keep trying to get the blood to clot. I'll be there as soon as I can." Pietro wondered how Clint could sound so calm and collected, even when there was a life on the line.

Then again, he supposed that was what being an Avenger was all about-staying calm under pressure and protecting those who couldn't protect themselves.

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairwell and Cooper jumped down the last three stairs and ran across the room to stand by Pietro's side. "What happened? Why were you outside?" Then he saw Wanda and his jaw dropped. "Did she get…shot?"

"Yes. There's no danger now; the person who did this is incapacitated. Please tell Laura I need her help. Oh, and keep Lila away from us while you're at it, if she's up as well. She doesn't need to see this."

Cooper nodded and pounded back upstairs. Pietro tried again to staunch the wound, but the rag he'd been using was limp and useless. It had reached its saturation point long ago. He swore as he grabbed a washcloth out of the kitchen sink and tried to use that instead. Nothing was working. He thought he was going to go crazy under all the stress. He wondered how much blood someone could lose before they bled to death.

And then Laura seemed to materialize by his side. She knelt down next to his sister and gently checked for a pulse. "Wanda, can you hear me?"

Wanda stirred a little but didn't wake up.

Laura grimaced and gave Pietro a towel for his hands. "It could be a problem if the bullet is left inside for too long. The wound could get infected and Wanda might come down with a fever. Unfortunately, neither of us is certified or has the training necessary to remove a bullet, so for now we'll focus on the blood. How long has she been bleeding like this?"

"About twenty minutes. Clint can't get here for another forty five."

"That doesn't make things any easier. Good thing I know a little bit about medicine myself. I'll be right back-I'm going to grab some better bandages and see if I can patch this up." She rummaged in one of the kitchen drawers.

Just then, Lila's head peeped over the edge of the second story railing. "Pietro? What's going on?"

"Wanda is just a little…sick, and your mother and I are trying to make her feel better."

"Go back to sleep, Lila." Laura came back in with an armful of clean bandages. "She'll be just fine."

Lila nodded and hurried off.

Once Laura had the wound bandaged, she was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. "That should soak up most of the major bleeding, even if we can't get it to clot.

"Now what?" Pietro asked.

"Now we wait."

"Perfect." Pietro couldn't sit still. He wanted to do something-anything was better than just sitting here and worrying.

Laura patted his hand reassuringly. "Wanda is strong, Pietro. She'll get through this."

Pietro nodded absentmindedly, brushing a piece of hair out of his sister's eyes. She looked so calm, peaceful even. If only he knew what kind of havoc that bullet was wreaking beneath her skin…

 _Stay with me,_ he thought fiercely. _I need you, Wanda. Stay with me._

Clint arrived exactly forty two minutes later.

He gave Laura a quick hug and then turned to the twins. "We're short on staff, since Natasha is the only one who happened to come with me, but I put a call ahead to Steve and Tony. They're expecting us. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

"We're ready." In fact, the twins had already packed the day before. It only took about two minutes for them to throw their suitcases in the back of the jet and perform all the necessary safety checks.

Laura and Pietro only had a moment to say their goodbyes. "Stay safe." Laura said as she hugged him tightly. "I'll call later to see how everything's going."

"Thank you so much, Laura-for everything."

"Anytime. You're like the teenagers I never had. If you ever need anything, tell us. We'd be happy to oblige. Understand?"

"Understood." Pietro knew he had to cut the conversation short. Wanda wasn't doing well. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, and the bandage was still stained a nasty looking shade of red.

Once everyone was safely on board, the Quinjet took off. As it reached its cruising altitude, Natasha gave their patient a once over. She didn't look optimistic. "Looks like she's lost a lot of blood, Clint."

"She will live though, won't she?" Pietro asked anxiously.

Clint and Natasha exchanged a look Pietro couldn't quite interpret. "We'll see when we get to New York."

Pietro sighed and glanced out the window. The farm was just a tiny dot below him; if he squinted he could see three miniscule hands waving to him from the front porch. He waved back, though he knew they couldn't see him. He really did hope he could come back soon; it had been only a week and a half, yet the Bartons had started to feel like his extended family.

Just then, a small moan from the center of the ship jolted him out of his reverie. Wanda was looking at him through eyes glazed with pain, one hand on her wound. The bandage was beginning to take on a purplish hue as infection set in. "Pietro, it hurts." she whispered.

"We'll be at a hospital in just a couple short hours. They'll fix you." His hands were slick with sweat. "That was a dumb move, Wanda."

In spite of everything, despite the pain she must have been feeling, she managed to smile up at him. "And yet, if our roles had been reversed, you would have done the same thing for me. Now, turn on Game of Thrones. We still need to catch up."

"Of course." Pietro began to stream the show, watching as Natasha and Clint talked in low voices near the cockpit. Every so often they looked back at him, murmuring softly. A shiver snaked its way down his spine, but he tried to ignore it.

Nothing was certain yet-death or life.

The Quinjet landed atop Avengers Tower and was immediately pulled into a landing bay crowded with people. At the head of the group were the other Avengers, all demanding an update.

Natasha sighed. "I'll go talk to them and show the medics where to find you. Clint, stay here with Wanda. Pietro, let's go. I want you to come with me."

"No." he said automatically. "I am staying with my sister."

"You'll just be in the way."

"I'm staying with my sister." he repeated solidly. Neither bribes nor threats could change his mind or weaken his resolve.

Finally, Natasha sighed in defeat. "Fine. I give up. Stay here if you want." She glanced down at the figure still lying on their 'operating' table, unconscious again. "Maybe your presence will do her some good."

Pietro hoped so, desperately.

Natasha piloted the Quinjet in a smooth landing and put down the landing ramp. Instantly, what seemed like a small army of doctors and other medical personnel swarmed up the ramp and into the plane, comparing notes with Clint about Wanda's condition as they rushed to the Tower's infirmary. Pietro followed at a distance, trying not to be in the way while at the same time making sure he didn't lag too far behind.

Finally, they reached another operating room. Pietro was about to follow the last orderly inside but Clint gently pulled him back. "This is their job, Pietro. Allow them to get it done." He steered him to a small sitting area with a particularly inviting leather couch.

Pietro immediately began to pace as Clint made a few calls. It was his fault-all of it. If he'd just been paying attention…if he'd just been watching out for her like he was supposed to…

Someone handed him a cup of coffee, which he drained in one long gulp. He felt like he was back in limbo again. Not alive, not dead, and unable to do anything about it either way.

Except this time around Wanda was the one on the operating table.

"Someone want to get him another cup of coffee?" James Rhodey asked as Pietro passed him for the fiftieth time.

"Seriously? Do we really need the kid hyped up on caffeine? Next thing you know, he'll be zooming around like a bat out of-"

"Language, Tony!"

Steve groaned. "You guys are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

"Make him some tea." Clint volunteered. "With lots and lots of chamomile."

"Sure thing." James hurried off to brew some for everyone. Pietro could tell that even if they didn't openly appear to be worried, their nerves were fraying too. It had been almost an hour and they'd received no word from the operating room-good or bad.

A doctor finally came to see them two hours later. "She's alive." he said immediately, in answer to their unspoken question.

Pietro allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. "Will she remain that way?"

"Hard to say. We've had some bad complications. The bullet came very close to puncturing a lung. It didn't, thank goodness-but we could still cause irreparable damage if we pull it out the wrong way. The injury is also infected and she's running a very high fever. She'll be under for another few hours at least. If you're planning on staying for a while, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable."

"We'd never leave." Steve replied. "She's one of the team."

Pietro sighed. Things weren't looking good. His stomach was slowly tying itself into knots and the phantom pain was a constant ache in his side.

"She's still alive, kid." Clint reminded him as he handed him a scalding cup of hot tea.

"Yes, but for how much longer?"

"All right-who's up for some Breaking Bad?" Sam asked, turning on Netflix and selecting an episode at random.

Pietro really tried to watch, but his mind kept wandering. Eventually, he settled on a memory-probably one of the first he could recall. He was playing in a park with Wanda, no more than three years old. It was a beautiful day; the park was green and full of dandelions.

"Make a wish, Pi'tro!" Wanda called, holding up one of the fluffy dandelion clocks.

Pietro did as she said and blew out the seeds with one breath. A few of them got into his mouth and he spat them out as they both giggled.

He remembered what his father had told him that morning, over bowls of cereal that were only slightly stale. _You're twelve minutes older than her, Pietro. That makes you her older brother. She looks up to you. It's your job to look after her, no matter what. Can you do that for me?_

Pietro had nodded proudly, cold milk dribbling down his chin. _Of course, Daddy. I won't let anything happen to her. I promise._

And he'd always managed to keep that promise, even through years of HYDRA experimentation. Until now.

It was then he realized how tired he was. He'd gotten about three hours of sleep the night before, give or take, and all the stress and worry was making him exhausted. But he couldn't sleep. What if Wanda needed him and he wasn't there?

Clint noticed him stifle a yawn. "Get some sleep, Pietro. I'll tell you if anything changes."

"Do you promise?"

"On my honor."

Pietro nodded and tried to retreat further into the leather couch where he'd taken up residence once he'd worn himself out from pacing. He fell asleep to thoughts of dandelions, sunny days, and promises he couldn't keep.

"Kid, wake up."

Pietro jumped awake like he'd been shocked with an exposed wire. Clint was talking to him in a low and even voice, as though anticipating an explosion.

And then he knew. The phantom pain in his side was little more than a pulse. He braced himself on the edge of the couch, sure he was about to throw up.

"She's been asking for you. The doctors think it would be best if you go and stay with her during the last bout of anesthesia. They've done everything they can, Pietro."

Pietro automatically stood up, downing the rest of his tea. "Of course." He was already mentally steeling himself.

He walked the short distance to the operating room by carefully placing one food in front of the other, like a prisoner marching to the gallows. If Wanda died, he knew that was where he'd be headed.

He didn't think he would be able to go on.

He took the opportunity to check his phone for any new messages. Laura had sent her a picture of her, Cooper, and Lila all holding a homemade sign that read Get well soon, Wanda. It comforted Pietro just a little bit, to know that he wasn't alone.

Just then, he reached the operating room and his thoughts were cut short.

This was it.

 _Please don't take her from me. How can I got on without her?_

He took one last deep breath and stepped inside.

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	9. Reasoning

**Sorry about that nasty little cliff hanger last chapter…it will get resolved in this chapter.**

 **This story is almost finished. There is only one more chapter after this one-which means I'll probably start thinking about future stories I'll be writing. Should I keep writing in the Avengers category? Feedback is appreciated.**

 **Disclaimer: see Chapter 1**

 **Enjoy!**

As soon as Pietro stepped inside the operating room, he was hit with the sweet, tangy scent of disinfectant. He remembered it well, from his own hospital visit. It brought up bad memories.

The universe just couldn't allow the Maximoffs to be happy. They'd lost so much and been through the mill so many times…heck, it had even tried to kill him. Although Pietro supposed he could justify that because he was the older sibling. That was his job. It had been his choice to make and he was proud of the decision he had made, especially on the spur of the moment like that. He was supposed to protect Wanda. And he should be the one dying, not her.

A nurse showed him to a chair next to the operating table. Wanda was unconscious again; an IV was strapped to her arm and a heart monitor kept a steady pulse in one corner of the room.

Pietro really hated heart monitors.

Gently he took her hand. "Wanda, wake up."

She stirred slightly, still worn out. "Pietro…"

"I'm right here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Am I going to die?"

"Of course not. Your heart is still beating, isn't it?"

"Yes, but for how much longer?"

"It's just a bullet wound. You'll survive. You'll survive, I'll scold you for making unnecessary sacrifices, and we'll go back to the Tower. Just like normal."

Wanda laughed, but the laughter quickly turned into a full blown coughing fit. "How does it feel?" she asked. "To be the one waiting, wondering, and not quite daring to hope?"

"I prefer to be the one on the table."

She glanced across the room at another doctor, who was filling a syringe with a booster dose of anesthesia. "He wonders if he should overfill it, just slightly. It would make my passing swift and painless. Quicker than falling asleep, Pietro."  
Pietro glared at the doctor in question. "I'm not going to let you die."

"What are my options? Either the bullet is removed and they puncture my lung, or the bullet stays in and I die anyway. And that's assuming sickness doesn't do me in first."

"There are always other solutions." If only he could think of any offhand.

"I want you to stay with me, until whatever happens next happens."

"I'll never leave."

Just then, the doctor came over with the anesthesia. Pietro gave the syringe a once over distrustfully, but the amount was correctly measured. For the first time, Wanda seemed almost nervous.

Pietro squeezed her hand reassuringly. Remember that day when we were playing in that abandoned lot after school and you cut your hand on that piece of glass? For a while, you didn't even know you were injured. You never showed pain, even though it had to be hurting you. You've always been strong, Wanda. You can be strong now."

"What if I never wake up?"

Pietro sighed. "Death is beautiful. It's beautiful in the simplicity of it. It's simple, compared to all the things we've lived through that are simply unnatural. It's peaceful and calming. It comes in the form that is most calming to you, to lead you through to the afterlife. But you'll never experience that because the doctors here are going to make sure that doesn't happen." None of said doctors would meet his eyes.

Gently, the doctor emptied the contents of the syringe into her arm. "Count backwards from one hundred, Wanda."

Wanda closed her eyes and automatically complied. "One hundred…ninety nine….ninety eight…ninety seven…ninety…" Her grip on Pietro's hand slackened slightly.

The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder in what was obviously meant to be a comforting manner. "We'll work as hard as we can."

"Don't let her die. She's all I have left."

He managed to last approximately five minutes before he had to leave. To call him a mess would be putting it mildly. He felt as though he'd been hit by a bus and then run over by a train-twice. Yet he didn't cry. His father had once told him that crying was weak-and the Maximoffs had been many things over the years, but weak was never one of them.

He found a small and out of the way staircase where he could just think. It was plain-so plain that if he focused hard enough he could almost pretend he was back at Avengers Tower, in his own bedroom.

His phone buzzed with texts inquiring after Wanda's condition. He responded with short answers, just saying that they'd put her under again and they still didn't know the outcome of the surgery.

He didn't notice Clint until the archer sat down next to him on the concrete stair. "Doing okay?"

"Not really." Pietro replied.

"She'll pull through."

"What if she doesn't?"

"She will. Let me distract you for a few minutes. Tell me about the two of you."

"What?"

"What was it like living in Sokovia with your parents?"

Pietro actually had to think about. It had been so long since he'd thought about those days-mostly because they seemed like a fairy tale. It was easier to believe that they'd happened to some other little boy-not to Pietro Maximoff, who had been on and off the streets since he was ten years old. "We were a family-our father was a member of the government and he always had enough money to give us nice things on holidays and birthdays. We weren't rich by any sense of the word, but we were comfortable. Wanda and I have always been inseparable. Even when we were young, we were always together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I feel responsible. If I hadn't invited you to come with me on furlough-"

"No. We both had an amazing time. I'm so glad you invited us."

"My pleasure." They sat in silence for about five minutes, waiting for something. What exactly they were waiting for neither of them could say.

"I suppose I should go back in there." Pietro said eventually, breaking the silence.

"Don't you want to?"

"Yes, but…it's hard for me to see her like that. I feel like I could have prevented it all if I'd been smarter, faster, and stronger. Out here, it's easy to imagine that everything will be all right. But when I get in there, I'm overwhelmed by the noise and the smell of disinfectant and it all comes back to me. I know what she's going through, but this time I can't help her. She's in a place where even I can't reach her."

"She needs you-now more than ever. You want to help her? That's how you do it. You push aside your own fear, your own guilt, and you stay with her. You don't worry about what the doctors say is going to happen. You focus on what you want to happen, no matter how improbable. And then whatever happens happens, but at least you'll know you did everything you possibly could."

He was already on his feet. "Be honest, Clint. Do you think she'll survive?"

The archer carefully considered for a moment before he spoke. "If she really wants to, there is no doubt in my mind that Wanda can get through this."

Pietro steeled himself and nodded. _Let's try this again.  
_  
The surgery lasted for three hours. The doctors worked around Pietro as though he wasn't even there. For his part, he ignored them-preferring to relive happy memories throughout the years. Occasionally, he shared them with Wanda in a low voice.

Finally, one of the doctors cleared her throat. "We have to decide now if the bullet is staying in or coming out. We can't put it off any longer."

Pietro was surprised to find five pairs of eyes looking at him. "What?"

"We're giving you the decision to make. If we operate, there's a chance we could puncture a lung. But if we leave the bullet in…that's that. It's up to you."

He didn't even have to think about it. "Take it out." It was better to have a little chance rather than no chance at all.

Immediately, the room jumped into action. Pietro thought his heart would beat its way out of his chest, but he forced himself to look down. He'd run out of memories and stories to tell, so he just thought. When he was younger, he and Wanda had always been convinced they had mental telepathy with each other. He hoped for his sake that they did. _Pull through. You have to pull through._ He squeezed his sister's hand, which had gone limp in his.

He wasn't expecting a response and he didn't get one.

That was probably the most grueling thirty minutes of Pietro's life. He often wished he had a cup of coffee to calm his nerves, which were so frayed he couldn't figure out how they were staying together. Mysteriously, when he texted Clint to bring him a cup or two, he received no response.

Finally, the doctor breathed a sigh of relief as she wiped her bloodstained hands on a clean towel. "It's done." She glanced at Pietro and smiled. "Would you like to see the bullet?"

Pietro held it almost reverently. It was covered in a thin film of blood-his sister's blood. It was tiny-barely larger than his fingernail. He had trouble believing that something this small could cause so much damage-could literally stop hearts.

This bullet had almost cost him his sister.

"So, is she good to go?" he asked.

"Absolutely not. She lost a lot of blood…she'll need a couple of transfusions to correct that…and her fever needs to break before we can give her a clean bill of health. But yes, her injury is no longer life threatening."

Such a wave of relief overwhelmed Pietro that he felt extremely dizzy. He had to grip the sides of his chair to keep upright.

A nurse glanced at him in concern. "Why don't you get something to eat, Pietro? We can clean up in here, and your sister will be well taken care of. Heaven knows you've earned a rest."

Pietro retreated to his stairwell like a soldier returning home from a brutal and bloody war. Wanda was going to be all right.

He wanted to laugh, maybe cry-or make a combination of the two. They'd come so close, but things were finally starting to work out. He thought he was finally in the clear-

-at least until he was called back to the operating room twenty minutes later.

"I don't know how it happened!" the doctor who had performed the operation insisted. Pietro examined the name on her plastic badge: Kim. "One minute she was fine and the next…"

The beeping of the heart monitor was pounding through Pietro's skull. It was high pitched and fast-something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

"What happened?" Pietro tried to keep his voice calm and even, taking a page from Clint's book. But it was very, very hard to do.

"Heart complications." another doctor told him. She proceeded to spout a string of numbers that made no sense to Pietro but seemed perfectly understandable to everyone else in the room.

The heartbeat was too fast.

"No." Pietro whispered, taking a seat again. Even though the bullet was out-he'd held it himself-Wanda hadn't changed. She was still unconscious; her breathing was still too far on the shallow side. "You can't die. Not here. Not now. Not after everything I've gone through in the last twenty four hours-all the coffee, all the phone calls, all the prayers. I'm not going to let you.

"Have you been trying to make a point? Because I get it now. I understand how it feels to have a loved one inches away from death. I've felt the anxiety, the hopelessness, and the desperation. I've gotten the point. Now stop. Snap out of it.

"They brought me back for you. They tried not just because of my powers but because we're twins. We need each other. Each completes the other. I could have lived a happy afterlife. But I came back for you. So I could be with you. And now I want you to stay with me."

The heart monitor was still too loud.

"Wanda, you're my sister. My little sister, in case I have to remind you. You mean the world to me. I would literally do anything for you. I would do whatever I had to do to make sure you're safe and happy. I love you more than you know. You're the only thing I have left-the only family. Don't let me face this world alone. Do better than I did."

He heard those dreaded words. "She's flat lining."

And then there was silence. Complete and total silence. Even the heart monitor ceased to beat. Its display showed simply one green line, long and unbroken.

One.

"Call it."

Pietro felt numb. He had to stay that way and pretend it didn't matter to him-otherwise the pain would tear him apart from the inside out.

Two.

Why wasn't the AED working?

"Time of death: 9:32 P.M."

Wanda's hand felt leaden in his own.

Three.

 _Wanda, give me a sign._

He squeezed her hand one last time. Hot tears blurred his vision and he wiped them away irritably. Clint had been wrong, yet he felt no sense of accomplishment or purpose.

He was alone, completely and totally.

Just then, the heart monitor began to beat again, slow and steady.

And his sister squeezed his hand back.

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	10. Moving Forward

**Thanks for sticking with this story! It's been a crazy week and a half, but I did it-one chapter a day for ten days!**

 **I'd like to take this opportunity to extend a thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, or reviewed this story. Your support is really appreciated. :) I plan to write more stories, especially with summer coming up. I just need to get past finals first…**

 **On to the final chapter! Feel free to live ideas or prompts in a review. I have ideas for multi-chapter fics, but I'd be interested in writing some one shots or two shots focusing on the twins. I plan to post another story in a couple weeks, after my school lets out for summer.**

 **Well, that's pretty much it. Sorry about the really long author's note. You guys are amazing. Killing Wanda was never even on the table for me-I'm not that mean. I just thought it would be an interesting direction to take the story in-but of course, she's going to stay alive.**

 **Disclaimer: See Chapter One.**

 **Enjoy!**

Pietro's full mug of coffee swam before his eyes. He couldn't remember another time he'd felt this tired-or this relieved.

As soon as he'd stumbled back to tell the others that Wanda was alive, Clint had pressed a mug of fresh coffee into his hands with a "You earned it, kid." Since then, Pietro had downed three cups and still couldn't fully wake up. But it didn't matter-Wanda was going to make a full recovery. The doctors were sure of it. And he could finally relax.

"Are the two of you done almost-getting-killed?" Tony asked, grabbing more shawarma (they'd ordered takeout). "Seems like it would be exhausting."

"Believe me, it is." Pietro barely managed to stifle a yawn. Once this was all over he was going to sleep for a week straight. "Have you found out anything about that HYDRA agent yet?" The agent in question was being held in a secure facility in upstate New York for interrogation. He still raved about seeing giant luminescent cuttlefish. Pietro was beginning to wonder if cuttlefish was a widespread fear among the human population. Then again, he'd seen a cuttlefish documentary himself. It had been quite disturbing, actually.

"Not much we didn't know before. Apparently, he was sent to kill both of you. We still don't know who he's working for or where he got his orders, but we'll find out. We have efficient ways to make people talk."

"How was Wanda when you last saw her?" Steve asked.

"Sleeping soundly. The doctors expect the fever to break sometime tomorrow or the next day. She's still under the effects of anesthesia, so she'll be really groggy and disoriented when she comes to. But she's alive, free of complications, and in no danger." It felt so good to say that, after everything he'd had to live through in the last twenty four hours.

"Hear, hear!" James said, raising a glass in a toast. "To the Maximoff twins, and their incredible inability to stay dead. May the two of you survive many other close shaves in the future."

The other Avengers clinked glasses. Pietro would have joined in as well, but he was about to fall asleep sitting up.

"Get some sleep." Clint told him. "Wanda will be fine, and I'll let you know if anything changes. I'll also be sure to call Laura and tell her the good news." He stood up and walked out of the room, already dialing.

"That's all right. I want to stay up with the rest of-"

"Kid, we're breaking out the alcohol. You gave us all some gray hairs." Tony added. "Last time I checked, you're still underage."

Pietro rolled his eyes, grabbed a last piece of shawarma, and dashed off. Half a second later, he was standing outside the door of his bedroom three floors below. As he stepped inside, he marveled at the fact that nothing had changed. His jacket was still hung over the edge of his desktop chair where he'd thrown it in his hurry. His tennis shoes were still in a neat line under the window. And yet, in the world outside this little room, things were constantly changing and constantly in motion.

He was changing, too.

He no longer took things for granted anymore.

He missed the Bartons, but it was nice to be in a place where he didn't have to listen to Cooper tossing and turning as he tried to get to sleep. "It's good to be back." he whispered as he dive bombed his bed, shoes and all.

He fell asleep still in day old clothes.

When Wanda came to, she was in an unfamiliar room with sterile white walls and a few pieces of machinery that she vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place.

Just then, a woman came in with her arms full of towels. "Good! You're up!" she said, smiling brightly. "How do you feel?"

"Better. What happened?" The last twenty four hours had all been a blur. She could remember coming in and out of consciousness a few times and her ever present brother, but not much else.

"There were certain…complications. We almost weren't able to operate. But we managed to get the bullet out. You're going to be fine. However, you'll need plenty of rest and recovery time-no overly strenuous activities for at least another two weeks. You have visitors. Should I send them in?"

"Sure." Wanda tried to sit up, though her wound still throbbed dully.

The woman, who Wanda had placed as a kind of nurse, left humming softly. Wanda realized she was in some kind of hospital room; the machinery was familiar to her because she'd seen it in the sick bay on the helicarrier so long ago.

Clint came in a minute later. "Hey." he said, handing her something large and white. "Nice to see you awake again. The kids made this, but it's from all of us. I stopped by last night once we were sure you'd be okay."

Wanda realized he'd given her a card. It was very colorful, covered in little drawings of unicorns and cartoon superheroes. In the center of the card, Lila had written GET WELL SOON in her little girl printing. The other members of the Barton family had signed around the outside-even Nathaniel, although Wanda expected Laura had signed the card for him. "It's beautiful. Please tell them that they have my thanks."

"Tell them yourself. Director Fury and I were having a talk…I was wondering if you and Pietro would like to go back to the farm while you recover, just for a week or two. Of course, we'll have better security. Tony has already increased the range of the security cameras to about five acres on all sides of the house-"

"It sounds wonderful." Wanda was more excited than she probably should have been. The farm had quickly become her favorite place in the entire world. She liked it even more than Avengers Tower, with all of its gadgets to play around with. "I would love to, and I'm sure Pietro feels the same way. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Asleep, hopefully. He hasn't gotten any sleep for about thirty six hours at least. He was always with you, through all the procedures. You really scared him. You scared all of us."

"I know. It was never my intention…I just acted on instinct."

"As I'm sure Pietro would have. Don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you gave him more than a few grey hairs. I'll see if he's up. I'm sure he really wants to see you."

Not as much as Wanda wanted to see him. "Is he mad at me?"

Clint shrugged. "Maybe a little bit. But I know he's relived to have you back." He handed her a cup of dark coffee. "Figured you'd want some. Pietro's been downing four cups a day. Good thing he has a high tolerance-otherwise I think we'd all be in trouble. He loves you a lot-you know that, right? More than anything."

Wanda took a small sip of coffee and nodded. "I know. And the feeling is mutual."

She still felt guilty. She'd thought nothing could compare to the twelve days she'd had to live through without Pietro. And now she'd almost made her brother face an entire life without her. And yet, she didn't regret her decision. She'd take that bullet again, if it meant Pietro would live.

She just hoped he could forgive her for it.

Pietro slept for almost a full day. In fact, he would have slept longer if it weren't for his stomach growling like a caged animal. He stumbled to the kitchen to see if there was any cereal left.

There wasn't.

Steve was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. "There's extra pancakes in the pan. Take a few when you go to see Wanda. She's probably hungry."

Pietro had just been sitting down to butter a piece of toast. Now he almost fell out of his chair in surprise. "She's awake?"

"Yeah. I just talked to her, actually. She's doing very well."

"And no one thought to get me up?" He speared a few pancakes and downed them in maple syrup, powdered sugar, and whipped cream.

"You were exhausted. You looked like you could use a few hours of sleep."

"Can I go see her now?"

"Of course. Clint wants to talk to you, when you have a minute. But take your time. There's no rush."

"There's always a rush." Within ten seconds, Pietro had filled another plate with pancakes and was out the door and down the hall, creating a breeze that sent the newspaper flying in every direction. "Sorry!" he called, even though he wasn't really sorry at all.

Just then, his phone rang to signal an incoming text. He crashed to a halt, narrowly avoiding a wall and a doorframe. The message was from Clint. _Up for another week at the farm? Wanda has already agreed._

Was he seriously the last one to the party? _As long as Cooper doesn't miss having his own room._

Finally, he reached the door to the recovery room Wanda had been assigned to. For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt nervous. In fact, he had to open the door and walk in quickly before he could lose his nerve.

The recovery room was a pretty good size. Besides the bed, which looked like it belonged in a five star hotel, it also boasted a chaise lounge, a table and chairs set, a leather couch, and the largest plasma screen TV he'd ever seen. _We have to watch something on there._

"You're here!" Wanda said, beckoning him over. "You must have been tired."

"More than you can imagine." He handed her the plate of pancakes. "These are for you."

"Thanks." They were skirting around the big issue and they both knew it.

"I hear we're going back to the farm."

"Yes! Isn't it wonderful? Clint is even going to split the sun porch in half so you can have your own room. He said he has a feeling we'll be regulars."

Pietro could imagine spending holidays at the farm. "Maybe we will be." He hoped that he'd get a chance to try Laura's famous garlic mashed potatoes. He'd heard they were absolutely delicious.

"I'm sorry."

He stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"For this. For all of this." She indicated the entire room with one sweeping gesture. "I know how it must have felt-"

"No. You don't. On the helicarrier, you knew I was going to die before you even arrived-even if you didn't want to admit it. I didn't know whether you would live or die. I had to go through almost two days knowing that you could die at any moment. Hours of worry. And then you flat lined and I…Let's just say we're even. Twelve days of death is equivalent to thirty six hours in the hospital. And the coffee tastes terrible."

"I almost regret introducing you."

"At some points, it was the only thing keeping me going." Now that Pietro had starting talking, he didn't seem to be able to stop. "Why did you do that? Why did you take that bullet for me? Why didn't you-"

"Get shot and die-again? Like I was going to let that happen. Pietro, you've always been looking out for me. But you have to understand that I also look out for you. You would die to protect me without thinking twice. And I would die for you. We have each other's backs. And if we have to make sacrifices, then we make them."

"Only when absolutely necessary."

"Right. Only in cases of great peril." She extended a hand for him to shake. "Friends?"

He embraced her instead. "Friends-and siblings."

They talked for hours. When they finally ran out of things to say, they watched movies until Pietro was sure his eyes were about to burn their way out of his skull. He didn't care. He was with his sister and they were both alive and well-that was all that mattered.

Finally, they realized it had grown close to midnight. "You know, we should probably try to get some sleep." Pietro didn't feel remotely tired, but he knew he was going to have to get his sleep schedule back on track at some point. That fifth cup of coffee he'd just had really wasn't helping. He just wanted time to think.

There could be a time when they could lose each other, but for now they had tonight.

And tonight was enough.

"How does it feel?" Pietro asked as Wanda lay down carefully. She strategically refrained from putting weight on her bad side.

"Fine. Almost new. It might not even scar."

It would always leave a scar-at least to him.

But even scars could fade with time-or at least not feel so raw.

"Sleep well, Wanda." _And even if you can't, I'm right here._

"You too, Pietro."

For once, he was sure he would.

When he was younger, Pietro, was convinced he was a star.

He was constantly on fire-always moving and always laughing. He could never sit still, even before the scepter had enhanced his powers. The world had always been too slow to him. He'd always felt invincible.

Until he'd realized that even he was no match for the sheer power of a few well-placed bullets.

Rightly, his star should have gone out right there. But then he was brought back and given a second chance. Since then he'd made mistakes and had triumphs. He'd almost lost his sister, the one real family member he had left. But the universe had decided they deserved a happy ending once in a while. And so Pietro knew he could go on being a star for a long time-burning bright, with his sister by his side. She was a star in her right.

Happy endings were nice things every now and then.

Pietro was glad he had finally found his.

 **And that's it! We're done!**

 **As a reference point, in this story the twins are around seventeen or eighteen years old.**

 **I should be posting something within the next two weeks.**

 **Thanks for reading, guys. It's been amazing.**

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